Moments In a Life
by paganaidd
Summary: ...Of a Completely Ordinary Herald.  Neave's tale. Rated for references to suicide, prostitution, child abuse, self-mutilation, and drug use. Nothing graphic. Parallels Arrows of the Queen through Winds of Fury. All canon-just a different view.
1. Chapter 1

Neave found Kira hanging from the stable rafters, a week after her father sold her to Garek.

She had been a skinny, sallow thing. Her father swore she was sixteen years, although she looked no older than Neave's fourteen.

She'd never spoken to any of them. Not to the other girls of the house, not to the boy who looked after the horses, not to him. Neave had tried. He'd tried to talk her into eating, sneaked her some wine. She'd swallowed the wine readily enough, but ignored the food. Neave warned her that Cook and Garek wouldn't put up with her shirking work.

Neave himself had lived there for as long as he could remember. As soon as he was old enough to carry a tray or push a broom he'd done so

Kira had spent the week serving in the taproom, but last night one of the customers had taken a fancy to her. Took her up to his room with him.

Neave had seen her in the early morning, as she passed through the kitchen where Neave slept near the fireplace . He'd assumed she was getting herself some wash water from the pump in the yard as she'd taken a bucket. He'd hoped she wouldn't get underfoot in the kitchen and get in Cook's way. The old woman didn't take out her temper on the girls much, but he was fair game

After a very long time Kira had not reappeared. Cook sent Neave to look for her, worried perhaps, that the girl had tried to run away, although she had taken no cloak for the cold. The little yard was empty and Kira's footprints led through the thin snow to the stable door.

The door hadn't been properly latched and swung open at Neave's touch. The winter sunlight shone on the wooden bucket that lay on its side. A few inches above that, the toes of Kira's slippers dangled beneath her ragged skirt hem

**

The rest of the morning was a chaos of officials. The law keepers had to come to pronounce it suicide rather than murder or misadventure. To that end, everyone in the house was interviewed.

Garek was not happy at having it pronounced a suicide in his house, but the girl couldn't have been hung by accident. He didn't want to be implicated in a murder charge, so he was quite cooperative with the law keeper's investigations. The priests took Kira's body to give her proper, if perfunctory, rites. The angry shade of a suicide could cause no end of bad luck.

"Neave? Was she very bad?" Mara asked him in Valdemaran as they stood waiting for the law keepers to get done investigating the yard. Garek was out there with them. and they'd all been told to stay in the main room. Mara had taught Neave Valdemaran mostly out of loneliness, Neave suspected. She clutched at the throat of her day gown, the one gown that she had that made her look matronly. She wore it when she went to market to avoid being bothered, she said. Today she wore it to talk to the law keepers.

"No, she'd just gone blue. She hadn't cut her throat or anything." he replied in the same way, trying not to think too hard about it.

"Ah, it's a bad business when they get into this life unwilling." she sighed.

"There's any other way?" he muttered sourly in Hardornen.

She looked at him sharply, her grey green eyes snapping, "For some of us, it's better than what we left." she said, still in Valdemaran. She pushed her black hair over her shoulder, her face softened again, "I was a woman grown when I got into this life, not sold into it by a drunkard who needed to pay his debts." She finished in Hardornen

Mara was better off than most of the girls. She wasn't in debt to Garek for either drugs or drink, so that gave her a certain independence. She also had a string of regular men (and one or two women) who asked for her and no one else. After dark, the dimness of the inn's candlelight hid her age and there was no doubt she was skilled.

One of the other girls, Jassera, clutched Mara's elbow, "Are the they going to let us open today?" she asked anxiously, "If we don't open, we don't eat!" Jassera didn't mean eat—she was one of the ones who drank up her pay. Neave had found her more than once with her head in the horse trough outside.

Neave shrugged, that was for Garek to figure out. He assumed that if the law keepers found that Kira's suicide was a true one, there'd be no reason for them not to open.

Mara said, "Its pretty clear what happened, I'm sure they won't find fault with _us."_

Neave had seen Kira's face when the man had led her away last night. He'd also seen that the man had enjoyed Kira's obvious revulsion, else he'd have taken one of the more experienced girls. It was interesting that the one person the law keepers _didn't_ want to interview was the man Kira had spent the night with.

Neave himself felt numb. The image of Kira's feet hanging in space was stubbornly imprinted in his mind. And her face...No, he would _not_ think of that.

**

They were able to open that night, although they had fewer customers than normal. Late that night, Neave took two mugs of ale upstairs. Cook was already dozing by the fire. She opened one eye, but probably assumed one of the girls had asked for the two mugs. She merely closed her eye again and turned over on her pallet of rags.

Neave climbed the stairs up to top floor. There was a small attic storage room he could climb up to through a narrow staircase. The chimney went through it, so it was relatively warm. Not as warm as the kitchen, but he was more interested in safe than warm right now. No one other than him came up here and the customers didn't even know it existed

He drank his two ales and wrapped up in the blanket he'd snagged from Kira's things, before the priests had taken them away. She hadn't had many things he could have used, but she did have this blanket which was better than the one he owned.

He stood looking down at the street outside the inn from the tiny round window of the attic. This had been a difficult day.

The moon was half full and shone brilliantly on the snow cover. There was almost no one moving about on the street now, the few torches in their holders were long since burned out.

Neave looked upward at the sharp stars and wondered if Kira could still see the stars from wherever she was.

A movement in the street below caught his eye. In the street below him, walking slowly, was a riderless white horse.

If moonlight could come to life and take form, it would have been this form.

The horse was the same color as the surrounding snow, glittering even as it did. If the horse had been still, Neave would have taken it for a snow sculpture. But she (he wasn't sure how he knew it was a she) did move. She moved like music sounded, like the liquid silver a merchant had once showed him, like the dress Mara owned made of something called silk. Like nothing Neave had ever seen.

She was riderless, but saddled and bridled in rich, expensive tack. Neave wondered whose stable boy was going to be whipped tonight, for letting such a beast wander off. Interestingly, she seemed to be moving with purpose. Perhaps she was headed for her home stable over a well known route (although he would have remembered seeing _her _if she passed by regularly).

He continued to watch her and the horse stopped, uncertainly, looking around. She had stopped right under the small window he was looking out of. She looked up,

Straight at him.

The blue moonlight engulfed him. Something escaped from his heart. Something warm took residence in its place

:Oh, at last. I Choose you:

Neave knew that mad people sometimes heard voices. He wondered vaguely if today had just been too much.

But the Companion (where did that word come from?) still stared up at him. :Can you get down here?: she asked inside his head.

He thought of the locked doors whose only keys hung on Gareck's belt. Strangely, as if some other steered his thoughts, he thought of and discarded a half dozen ways of leaving the inn and the town.

Leaving during the day was impractical since it would be clear that he and the white horse didn't match. The law keepers would question them at every turn. Kyldathar (was that her name? It was beautiful) didn't want to take back ways with Neave in this cold. He thought of just hiding somewhere until dark, but again, the cold and Neave's thin clothing were against them there.

:I'm going to go get some help, Neave.: he was anguished at the thought that she would go. He felt unacustomed tears fill his eyes, :I swear to you, Chosen, I'll be back with help. Look for us tomorrow night. Either me or a white horse that looks like me. Thats how you'll know us.:

Neave felt as though his heart was breaking. :Shhh. It will be all right. Sleep now. I love you: The gentle voice urged him out of his hiding place (where he might be whipped if he was discovered)and back down to the kitchen where he fell into a sleep filled with white horses and hoofbeats that sounded like bells.


	2. Chapter 2

Neave asked Mara about his dream as soon as he could get her alone the next morning.

This wasn't that difficult, Their morning really didn't begin until the sun was well high. Cook was sleeping off her ale still and many of the girls were still in their beds. Garek rarely made an appearance before noon unless he needed to see the merchants or the money changers. None of there customers had spent the night with any of the girls last night. Concerned, perhaps of the possibility of the house's growing ill luck.

He followed her outside, as she went to empty her chamber pot into the gutter in front of the inn, "What does it mean to dream of a white horse?" Mara was the sort of person one could ask about dreams. She had a wealth of knowledge in her head. Most of the girls thought she was a little bit of a witch. The two Karsite girls would have no part of her until that high born and his little gang had come. They were much warmer to Mara now that they had received benefit of her help.

It had been a bad winter, Neave decided.

"It depends," She dumped the contents of the pot into the ditch, "Who was riding it?" She glanced at Neave worriedly, "It wasn't that poor girl was it?"

"No, she was riderless. A saddle, but no rider. She spoke to me." Neave shivered in the cold.

"The horse spoke, you mean? Huh, what did she say?" Mara asked as they went inside.

"She said some things that seemed important, but I can't remember now." it was frustrating the way the dream faded in the morning light. Usually he was good at remembering the things he wanted to--and not remembering those he didn't. "She said something about choosing—something." He shrugged, "I guess it was just moonshine and two mugs of ale."

Mara seemed a little startled and looked at him oddly, "Well, in Valdemar, a white horse is lucky. And if it talks to you, it means great changes are to take place in your life. Only don't tell Cook or Anzia and Cacilie," those were the two Karsite girls "They'll tell you its demon work. 'Course, they'll tell you tripping on a cracked step is demon work." she shook her head, "Keep it to yourself is best. AND don't let Cook catch you sneaking ale."

Neave grinned at her.

"How are you feeling lad?" Mara asked, changing the subject, "Your side and your back still giving you trouble?"

"S'alright." Neave shrugged, His chest and ribs still ached, but after two weeks they were better than they had been. Mara had said that his ribs weren't broken, just bruised and she had done--something--that seemed to keep him on his feet. She always had willow tea as well. The cuts and the burn they'd left on his back would scar, but at least he hadn't taken wound fever.

The law keepers had turned a blind eye to the high born 'gentleman' and his pack. Garek's people hadn't been the only victims and Neave didn't think anyone in town would forget it for a long time. Come to think of it, didn't Kira's father sell her to Garek because His Lordship's men had ruined her (in the eyes of the 'respectable') for marriage? No wonder she'd hung herself.

**

Neave spent the day with a sense of expectation, not knowing what he was waiting for. He jumped every time the door opened. He supposed it was reaction to yesterday's events.

Everyone was edgy. He listened to the Karsite girls arguing with each other, then the girl from Ruvan swearing at them. Cook swore at all of them in Karsite and Hardornen. Jessera and Garek argued about what she owed him. The other Hardornen girls sneered at the foreigners and that set the Karsites and the Ruvanen at it again. Mara put on her matron gown and cloak, claiming she needed something or another at the market.

Tarim, the stable boy hid out in the stable, but Neave couldn't bring himself to go out there again. Tarim hadn't found Kira yesterday because he'd still been asleep in the loft. He'd just heard Neave yelling.

By the time they were ready to open, Jassera was covering a black eye with some make up, but otherwise the girls were settled and composed.

Neave went about his work, tired and depressed. Four Karsite Army regulars came in. He brought them some ale and breathed a little sigh of relief. This wasn't the sort of crew who'd be interested in chasing _him_ around. They caught hell from their priests sometimes, just coming in to hire the girls.

A few local customers had shown up to brave the bad luck of the place, and the girls were intently plying their trade.

It was full dark when the three Valdemaran Army regulars came in through the stable door.

A hush fell.

They didn't see too many Valdemarans because they were closer to the Karsite border than to the Valdemaran border. On the other hand, it wasn't unheard of either. They just never had the misfortune of having both sets of uniforms in the taproom at the same time.

Neave wondered if he could slip outside to avoid the blood shed. The law keepers were likely to let the Karsites and the Valdemarans fight it out, then lead the survivors to their respective borders.

Of course, that would mark Garek's place as unlucky for sure, coming on top of the rest of it. Neave could see this calculation going through Garek's head from across the room as he nervously stood in the door of the kitchen.

Worse yet, the three Valdemarans were dressed in _officer's_ uniforms. And the highest ranking one was a woman.

The highest ranking Karsite rose from his place at his table beside Anzia. Everyone in the room held their breath. He walked over to the woman. who looked back at him steadily. The two men with her, younger than she, put their hands to their daggers. "I came in to get a drink not to fight." The Karsite said in Hardornen,

"That was our intent." She replied in Hardornen, The woman gestured to the two younger officers to take their hands from their weapons. "Hardorn is neutral." she said.

The man had just enough ale in him to be agreeable and not enough to be belligerent, "If we had a black robe with us, it might be different." He looked at the two men, noting their blue uniforms, "And since I'm not seeing a white coat..." he shrugged "I'm guessing its the same with you. What the eye doesn't see..."

"The heart doesn't grieve for" She smiled slightly, supplying the end of the Hardornen proverb.

Neave understood suddenly that both groups were probably here without their commander's knowledge or permission and eager to avoid trouble with the locals.

"An understanding, then?" The woman said, still smiling that same little smile.

He chuckled, "An understanding. Assuming when you leave, you head east, we should have no reason to cross paths."

The woman inclined her head. The room began breathing again.

Neave hastened to get them all ales. They looked like they all had full purses, "We have wine if Milords prefer." he said to them. The three of them looked at him.

They looked at him and _saw_ him.

In Neave's experience, being seen was never a good thing. The two men were young, perhaps no more than twenty. One of them was very handsome, dark haired and blue eyed, with the unconscious air of entitlement that Neave only ever seen in the high born. It made him shrink into himself a little. The other man was on the homely side with blond hair. Again that air of confidence, that came with always having a full stomach. They were both looking at him speculatively. Neave felt his heart jump.

It had been--bad--the last time high borns had taken notice of him. He swallowed, firmly banishing thoughts of that.

The woman interrupted the moment, "A jug of wine, then." she said peremptorily in Hardornen, She started taking off her gloves and said to the men, very quietly, in Valdemaran, "Will you lads stop staring? Can't you see you're scaring him?" Her body language said that she'd dismissed Neave from her thoughts, but she continued, "I think that our friend gave us the best plan of rescuing the lad, after all."

Garek came up behind Neave "Will you stop gawking and _move_ boy!" he hissed.

By the time Neave came back with plates of the inn's food and the wine, Mara sat next to the woman. Mara didn't mind taking women, much to some of the girl's disgust. She said they paid well and didn't leave her with bruises, as often.

Mara was talking in Hardornen to the three of them. She managed to catch Neave's eye "How is it you speak our language _so_ well?" she was gushing, doing her wide-eyed farm girl bit. The dark haired man smiled in an indulgent way, "Oh you know, lady. It requires _years _of study." he went on to impress her with his scholarly ways. The woman officer rolled her eyes and looked at the blond man who smirked.

Neave took Mara's meaning, she thought it was wiser that they not let the Valdemarans know they were understood by two here.

"Years of study," muttered Neave to himself in three languages, just to see if he could remember the phrase in all three, as he dumped some plates into the wash bucket.

When Neave went out to refill ale mugs and wine jugs, Jassera had attached herself to the blond man, who seemed a little reluctant, but that may have been because the ranking officer sitting there was a woman, The blond man looked pleasantly at the woman officer and said quietly in his native tongue "This is starting to make my skin crawl."

The woman smiled sweetly "Queen and Country, Dirk. Do you want to ruin the artifice? Look she's going to bed someone here tonight." only the woman didn't say "bed", she used a word Mara would have slapped Neave for using, "It might as well be you. You, at least, won't add to her bruises. And the worst you smell of is horse."

"Thank you, ever so much, Ylsa." He said, keeping his tone light.

"I'll trade you." said the dark haired man, idly playing with his wine cup. His gaze was straying to Neave again. Neave made himself busy with cups and plates.

"No, you won't." said the woman, Ylsa, firmly "You're much better at being the debauched high born than he."

"Lovely," smiled the dark haired man a little bitterly. "So, I have to get the poor scrap alone to explain?"

"You know its rude not to include your lady in the conversation." pouted Jassera at Dirk in Hardornen. She really didn't speak anything but Hardornen and a smattering of Karsite picked up from Cook.

"She's right Dirk," said Ylsa, lazily switching to Hardornen. She made shoo-ing motions with her hands, "Why don't you two go, get to know each other."

Neave was washing a table, he looked at them from under his long red hair. The blond man smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes and drifted off with Jassera.

"Would you get us more wine, my dear?" Ylsa asked Mara, who obediently stood and took the wine jug. Mara looked at Neave with the strangest expression. He wanted to ask her if he should make himself scarce, but there seemed to be no way without being obvious about it.

The dark man leaned towards Ylsa, he whispered something Neave didn't catch.

She shook her head very slightly, looked towards the Karsites who sat on the other side of the room.

"Well," The dark man said more loudly, in Hardornen when Mara returned, "Dirk's found company, Ylsa's found company, I think I need to find some too. Who's that young man?" He asked Mara, looking towards Neave.

Neave's stomach turned over, "That's Neave," said Mara, "Would you like an introduction?" Neave knew that there wasn't anything Mara could do to protect him really, but it still felt like a betrayal.

"Neave?" called the man, "Come here, lad." his voice didn't sound unkind, but Neave knew that meant nothing.

With dragging feet Neave went closer to the group, "I've a mind to find my bed," said the man cheerfully, "Would you be willing to show me?"

"Garek said to give the gentleman the front room," Mara said, she sat a little back so the man and the woman couldn't see her face. She gave him a tense, encouraging smile. The front room was next to the one she usually used—it meant at least she'd be close.

"Yes, Mara" Neave whispered. He knotted up the towel he was holding so the man wouldn't see his hand shake.

"You don't mind if I take this?" said the man, liberating the wine jug and two wine cups.

The Karsites watched them leaving the room, confirming their worst imaginings of Valdemaran officers. They shrugged it off, since the boy wasn't one of theirs.

Neave led the way up the stairs after he paused to light a candle from one already lit. He felt as though there wasn't enough air. The candle light shivered in his shaking hands. He refused to look behind him at the man, until they reached the room, "Here it is, then," he said flatly, fighting down his rising panic.

The man turned his pretty blue eyes on Neave, "Come in here for a bit, I'd like to talk."

If it turned out as badly as last time, perhaps Neave could find out if Kira had left any rope.

He followed the man into the room. The man put the wine jug and cups on the little table, the only furniture in the room but for the bed. Looked suspiciously into the hallway. Locked the door.

He turned to face Neave looking worried. "Are we likely to be overheard?"

Neave was shaking in earnest now. He hoped the darkness hid at least some of his trembling. "You mean, is anyone likely to take notice of me putting up a fuss?" he said acidly.

The man looked at Neave with an expression he couldn't place, "No, I meant I wanted to talk." the man said quietly, "And I don't want to be overheard."

Neave shrugged, "Everyone's busy or drunk."

The man seemed to look around for somewhere to sit. He looked at the bed, then at Neave and got that odd expression on his face again. Something between pity and shame Neave decided. The man finally took the wine jug and the cups and sat on the floor in the corner. "Could you bring that candle over?"

"All right" said Neave suspiciously, wondering what game this was. He sat opposite the man, careful not to lean against the wall and hurt himself.

The man poured wine into both cups, "You better have some of this, you look like hell." he said gently, handing one to Neave. Neave watched the man drink first, wary of sleight of hand with wine and cups. He didn't think the man could have dropped something into just his cup, but he'd had plenty of time coming up from the hallway to dose the jug.

The man didn't notice Neave's hesitation and drained his cup in one go. "Listen," he said, after a minute, "My name's Kris. Do you remember seeing a white horse last night?"

Neave intended to deny it, he opened his mouth to tell the man he hadn't any idea what he was talking about, "Yes" he heard himself say breathlessly. In a rush, the memories of the not-dream he'd had last night came back to him, "She said she was going for help. Are you...help?"

Kris smiled. "Yes, we are. We couldn't come get you openly. Too close to the Karsite border and little issues about kidnapping and treaties. Ylsa's idea is that we should buy you out of here. I'm playing snotty high born who's besotted with you. No one here's actually your mother are they?"

Neave shook his head. "She died a long time ago." he was starting to feel very confused. Why was he _telling _this man these things?

"Does Garek claim you as his son?"

Neave just snorted.

"Alright, so once we _get _you over the border, they won't have any recourse to get you back under treaty. Nor is anyone likely to try, anyway."

"How nice for you." Neave said dryly.

"Gods, I didn't mean it like that." said Kris in real distress.

Neave's practical side reasserted itself, "So, how am I supposed to be better off with you lot than here?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm making a muck of this. I told Ylsa I would. Do you know what a Herald is?" asked Kris, using the Valdemaran word. He poured more wine into their cups.

"I've heard it. Couldn't work out what they were." said Neave, cautiously. Actually Mara had said a few other things, but he wasn't going to tip his hand.

"Well, at the moment, all Ylsa said I should tell you is that the Companions Choose us." Kris used the Valdemaran word for Companion, the one that had lodged itself into Neave's mind last night.

"Companions?" Neave asked excitedly, "Like the one I saw last night? Did she...come with you?"

"No, she didn't." Kris said, he smiled gently at Neave's crestfallen look, "But she's waiting for you. Ylsa thought it was too dangerous to bring more than one Companion. Too conspicuous. My Tantris is in the stable, if you want check on my words. Kyldathar said to look for her or a white horse who looked like her, didn't she? We were surprised not to find you hanging about in the stables, truth be told."

Neave was beginning to be dizzy with the whip saw of his emotions. His elation at Kris' knowledge of the Companion's name and words (and what that implied) turned to horror at the mention of the stable.

"I'm not going in there again." he said flatly.

"Why?" Kris asked puzzled.

Neave found himself telling Kris the whole story of Kira's suicide, and drinking far more wine than he normally did. Neave wondered again why he was telling this man, these things, but it seemed to bring him relief. As he spoke, his memory of the events of yesterday (and indeed, the whole dreadful winter,) seemed to soften around the edges.

Kris was very quiet, listening to Neave..

Finally, late into the night, Kris said. "Neave, I have to sleep if I'm to be worth anything in the morning. Do you want the bed?"

Neave was drunk and unsure he'd heard right, "For what?" He leaned over carefully on his side, which was his only comfortable sleeping position for the past fortnight.

"Never mind." sighed Kris. He threw the blanket from the bed over Neave before curling up in his own cloak

**

Neave woke up on the floor of the empty room, with the blanket of the bed covering him. Mara was shaking him. She was being careful not to jar his ribs or his back for which Neave was grateful. "Neave?" she said urgently, "Are you all right? Did he hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine" Neave said getting up gingerly, "It was...weird." Once he was up, he was all right, it was moving from lying down to upright that bothered him the most. "He just wanted to talk."

"Listen, they're still here. They're paying off Garek for your keep." This was the fiction that allowed the buying and selling of children. Mara looked him in the face "If you want to run away, now's the time." she paused, swallowed, "I-I have a little silver hidden away..."

Neave knew she was saving that silver for passage on a caravan next spring. He couldn't take way her escape, no matter what, "No." he looked back at her, "I think it'll be all right. Can't be worse than this last winter. Can't run anywhere, anyway, the shape I'm in."

She looked as though he'd confirmed something she had been thinking.

Most of the house was still asleep. It was perhaps an hour past sunrise, positively unholy by Neave's thought, but not uncommon for army regulars who might need to get back to duty by noon.

They wandered down the stairs just as Kris was saying laconically, "Would you have your boy bring the beasts outside?"

Neave realized, if Tarim did that, he wouldn't have to go through the stable. It would save them all a few steps as well, which was, Neave assumed, the real reason. He was still grateful.

The three Valdemarans looked a little hungover. No more than Neave felt though, so it wasn't bad. Garek came over, smiling his oily, well-pleased smile, "Well, boy! This fine gentleman has offered you a squire's apprenticeship. They've paid for the keep I've provided for you and I've provided your future!" Garek went on for a moment in this vein, until he touched Neave on the shoulder and Neave flinched away with a small cry of pain.

"Trouble, lad?" asked the woman mildly, although her eyes were pieircing.

"Oooh, you know boys." said Garek quickly, "Always some injury or another they pick up." Then he couldn't get them out fast enough.

"Ever ridden before?" asked the woman, while they waited outside for the horses.

"No, milady." said Neave, shivering in the dooryard. He didn't own a cloak.

She took off her own cloak and wrapped him in it. "I'm Ylsa, this is Dirk and you've met Kris" Tarim appeared with the horses. Two were ordinary enough, a brown and a black, pretty, but they were so clearly beasts. The third, the white one, looked at Neave with a frightening intelligence. and _winked._

The woman stopped and looked haughty until Tarim ambled off. "Alright, You can ride pillion with Kris until we meet up with the others. We should be there before noon. Once we're all together we can move faster. I think once we get out of sight of the town we can put you in some spare clothes and you'll be more..."

"Ylsa, its one of those women." interrupted Kris.

Mara had donned her cloak and come outside. She looked hard at the Companion, then said said in a satisfied voice "I knew it." in Valdemaran "He's been Chosen, hasn't he?"

The Valdemarans stood shocked. Ylsa recovered first "Who...?"

Mara smiled, "I haven't been gone so long, that I can't tell a Companion from a horse." she continued in the same language. She turned to Neave before Ylsa could start asking questions, "Listen, Neave, these people mean you nothing but good. Do you understand? They'll take care of you. And that white horse you saw? She'll take care of you too. All right? Lady-Herald?" She finally addressed Ylsa who just stared at her "Before you take him to Haven, get him to a proper healer. I've done what I can, but otherwise it'll be months before he can make the trip. He's had a bad fortnight." She kissed Neave's head. She didn't hug him because she knew that would hurt him.

Kris said to Neave, "You didn't say you could speak Valdemaran!"

"You didn't ask," Neave said quietly, he was thinking about how he would miss Mara.

Dirk finally spoke up, "Lady? would you like to come with us?"

"And do what, Herald?" asked Mara, "Anyway, my own people drove me out because I was witch born." she shrugged, "I get along fine. Maybe I'll take a caravan to Jakatha next summer. There's evil at work here and all the lucks gone out of the place. I'll likely move on."


	3. Chapter 3

Ylsa still looked stunned, "How is it? How is it that I sat next to you and I didn't pick up that you spoke Valdemaran? I was in _bed_ with you and I didn't!"

Mara smiled, "You weren't Looking hard. I have just enough ma..mag.." the word seemed to stick in her throat, "Gift. That I can block a casual glance. As for bedding me," Mara smile turned sly, "You were really somewhere else, weren't you?

Ylsa blushed, but kept to business, "What's this about the boy being hurt?"

Mara looked grim, "They cracked his ribs two weeks ago. You put him on a horse and he'll be in agony in a candle mark."

"You told me they were just bruised." protested Neave.

"I lied. They made a bigger mess of your back than I told you as well." Mara shrugged, "My sp-sp--" again the words seemed to stick, "-- What I did--wouldn't have worked if you had known how badly you were hurt. And Garek wouldn't have given you floor room if you couldn't at least do some work. I made Cook get Tarim to split her wood."

Dirk coughed, looked around "Should we be having this conversation in the open?"

Mara looked at him "It's all right. I've just come from tearing a strip off of Garek for selling the boy off. He knows I'm fond of Neave. No one will think it amiss that I come to say goodbye. Just stand there looking bored."

"All right," said Ylsa wearily, "New plan:" she looked at Kris and Tantris, "Tantris, can you take Neave and I? Dirk and Kris, you can follow on the horses. "

Kris and Tantris exchanged a glance. Tantris nodded. Ylsa went on "I can't pain block like a healer, but I can help a little. That should see us to the border. We can have Kyldathar meet us at the border. No wonder she's been half out of her mind."

Mara pulled something out of her pocket, "I bought some poppy from Jessera." she had four tiny brown pellets that Neave knew were poppy resin, "I'm going to take the pain block off Neave now. I don't want it to creep up on him as he gets beyond my range. Someone have a water skin?" Kris handed her his.

Ylsa caught Mara's wrist, "That's a lot of poppy."

Mara nodded, "You ever had a broken rib?" Kris shook his head, but Dirk and Ylsa nodded, "This lad has been working through two, for two weeks. And you're putting him on a horse. When I take this pain block off...well, it might be bad." She turned to Neave, "Swallow this down Neave." obediently he took the tiny pellets and chased them down with the water.

"Now, Get him up there. You'll have to ride behind him to keep him on," Mara said to Ylsa, "Once I take the s-s... pain block off, you'll never get him up without the Companion kneeling and that will draw more attention than you want. If you wait till you're out of the gates to take off, people will still see 'horse' if he behaves like one." She gave Ylsa an acute look, "Smart of you to come in Guard blue. Cook would have drawn a blade across the boy's throat, rather than let the Heralds have him. After what's already happened..." she stopped, glanced at Neave as if she felt she was saying too much. "Well, the law keepers would assume he'd thrown himself into the river"

"Kyldathar had that idea." said Ylsa, "Come on Kris, help me."

Ylsa took her cloak back. Neave didn't protest. It had been kind of her to lend it to him, while they stood around. Kris knelt down beside Tantris as Neave had seen Tarim do, forming a step with his hands. With Ylsa's help he made it up into the saddle. Ylsa hopped up behind him with seemingly no effort.

"Here lad, put your feet ahead of the stirrups." she said showing him how to sit. "Now, that poppy's likely to make you dizzy. I'm going to hold you on like this, if you start to fall." She reached around under his arms, careful of his ribs. She was taller than he, so it made sense. "And I'm sorry we didn't think to bring an extra cloak. But there's not much to you yet, so I think mine will do for us both." She pulled the front part around so they were both under it. "All right?" she said to Mara.

Mara put her hand on Neave's knee "Good luck, Neave." she took a deep breath, "This is going to hurt like you've been kicked again. I'm sorry. But the poppy will start working in a minute." She closed her eye's and muttered something.

It _was_ like being kicked again. His vision grayed at the edges and he couldn't breathe. The hands around him tightened. "All right, son. Stay with us." Ylsa said in his ear. He didn't even have the breath to swear. After a moment, it became less sharp, reduced itself to a dull roar.

Dirk and Kris were mounted and Mara stood looking a little forlorn, "Lady?" asked Kris seriously, "If we were who..._what_ we seem...What would you have done?"

Mara met Kris' eyes soberly, "Given him enough poppy that he could find a more permanent solution, if he chose. That's what Jassera thinks I bought the poppy for." Mara pulled a scant handful of the little pellets out of her pocket. "She's pleased this morning. Your friend, there" she nodded at Dirk "Overpaid her, so she's already been to the dealer. It's the only thing she gets up early for."

Dirk blushed, "I felt sorry for her" he shrugged.

"Feeling sorry for pretty faces gets you into trouble, Herald" Mara said.

Neave was beginning to feel a little fuzzy headed. Very gently, Ylsa said, "Neave, I'd like to put you into a trance. It'll help keep you comfortable."

"What's a trance?"

"Well, this would be putting certain parts of your mind to sleep. It doesn't get rid of the pain, but it makes it so it doesn't seem so important."

"Oh, yes, I know what you mean." Neave said a little dreamily "Like going away in your head, when it gets too bad. I've done that lots of times."

He felt Ylsa brush back his hair. He stiffened involuntarily.

She cleared her throat, sighed. "All right," she said, "I'm going touch your face now, will you trust me?"

Reluctantly he nodded, Mara trusted them and he trusted Mara. Ylsa touched his temple. He had the feeling he was not entirely in his body. Like he was watching it from far away. He _had_ done this before.

He was aware of everything they did, but it all seemed removed. He couldn't tell how long the ride took as they made their way sedately through town. They topped the little rise in the road, and they were farther than Neave had ever been from the town.

Ylsa had been silent until now, although the two men had been speaking to each other. The trance and the poppy gave Neave the feeling of being wrapped in wool blankets. He began to understand what Mara had meant by agony though. The movement of the Companion beneath him jarred his ribs with every step. He was grateful for the fuzziness standing between it and himself

"Right, this is where I leave you two." Ylsa said suddenly, "Help me get some supports on him." She dismounted, "Neave?"

He looked at her blearily, "Yes?"

She took a deep breath, "I won't be able to hold you on with the speed Tantris is going to go. What I'm going to do is basically tie you to the saddle. We do this for Heralds who are too ill or injured to keep themselves on."

Even through the poppy, he started to tremble as Kris started pulling leather straps out of the saddle bags.

Ylsa caught his hands and looked in his eyes. "If I do this, we can make the border guard post in two candle marks. I swear, no one's going to hurt you. All right?"

It was too late now to back out, anyway. He nodded.

He held himself very still with eyes closed until they were done. They used straps to tie his feet and legs to the saddle and some around his waist. Ylsa rode in front this time. She left her cloak around him and tucked it down "Hold on to my waist if you want to hold on." she said, "Tantris? Just as fast and smooth as you can."

The Companion jumped a little, sending pain up Neave's side, but after that, the pace smoothed out. He leaned into Ylsa's shoulder, and grabbed around her waist. She patted his hand. The speed was terrifying to a boy who'd never been on a horse before. Now he was grateful for the straps holding him onto the saddle.

To his shame, he found himself crying into Ylsa's shoulder. She didn't seem to notice though. with the rush of wind and the sound of the Companion's hooves, perhaps she thought he was just laying his head there.

After a while, the trance Ylsa had put him into seemed to reassert itself. He began to watch the land fly by. Tantris' bell like hoof beats on the road became the focus of his concentration.

After a long time, Ylsa said, "Neave? Are you awake?" He opened his eyes, not realizing he'd slept. Tantris had slowed to a stop and three other Companions stood around them. "We're over the border."

He still felt muzzy, but the pain in his side was growing. He was cold and stiff. One of the Companions stepped forward to touch his leg with her nose.

"Oh, its you." he breathed, reaching to touch her. The growing pain became distant again.

:Neave. I'm so sorry I couldn't come myself. Ylsa wouldn't let me.: Kyldathar mind voice was heartsick, :What's wrong? You're hurt?:

"I'm all right." he lied, not wanting to distress her.

"Kyldathar, get out of the way. Let me get him to the Healers." Ylsa said, "You were right to ask for help, you couldn't have gotten him here yourself."

Kyldathar reluctantly moved out of the way, falling into step with Tantris. One of the other Companions followed them, while the third continued to keep vigil at the road.

Neave opened his eyes again when Ylsa jumped down. Tantris knelt and Ylsa started untying him from the saddle. There was another woman with him dressed in green. "Let's get you off there, now." said the green robed woman. "You gave him poppy? How long ago?"

As soon as Neave was out of the saddle, Tantris turned and walked out the door of the stable they were in. Kyldathar took his place next to Neave, offering her neck to lean on as he shakily stood.

"Hello" he said to her, "You're beautiful." he couldn't think of another thing to say, rather he wanted to just stay here quietly with her. Preferably forever.

"Come on, Neave" Ylsa was saying gently, "Healer Deena wants to look at you. Kyldathar will won't go anywhere without you.'

"Oh but..." He resisted the hands trying to pull him away

:Go on, love. I'll be here.: Kyldathar's voice said in his head.

"Does he speak our language?" the healer was asking Ylsa. He realized he'd been speaking Hardornen.

"I speak it pretty good." said Neave switching to Valdemaran, as he walked between Ylsa and the healer.

The healer smiled, "So you do." she said, "Come in, here." She led him into a large room with four beds and a table and some chairs. Jars and bottles lined tall shelves.

"Sit down now, Neave," said Ylsa, pushing him onto a wooden chair, "I'm going to bring you out of your trance." She looked into his eyes and touched his face again.

Neave gasped as the panic and pain of the last three candle marks (not to mention the past two weeks) hit him with full force. The pain in his side wouldn't let him draw a breath. He kept gasping, convinced he was going to die on the spot.

:Chosen! Its all right! Just breathe.: Kyldathar's voice was warm and calm.

Ylsa and the Healer were giving him the same advice. Unfortunately, he had reached the end of his resources, the healer caught him as he fell sideways into a dead faint.


	4. Chapter 4

"It's all right" Said Deena as she picked the boy up and set him on one of the beds, "He just fainted. When did he last eat?"

Ylsa blinked, "I'm not sure,"

The healer snorted, "I'll wager it wasn't since yesterday. I'll keep him out while I get a Look at him. Poor little thing. Hand me those shears there, his shirt's a loss." She laid him gently on his uninjured side, "You say that woman said something about making a mess of his back?"

Ylsa nodded as she handed the shears to Deena. Neave was facing her. Ylsa had a headache from trying to keep the boy deeply tranced. She brushed the boy's red hair back from his pale face. In sleep he looked very young, indeed.

Deena gasped out an oath. "Ylsa, look at this." she said darkly. She had cut up the side of Neave's shirt.

Ylsa leaned over the bed to get a better look. There was a mass of purple, yellow and green bruising on his side, She had expected that—what was unexpected was the number of shallow cuts that criss-crossed his back or the burn marks that looked as though they'd been made by heated daggers. She also gasped out an oath.

"Are those--whip cuts?" Ylsa asked, swallowing hard.

"Some of them." Deena had turned pale, "Some of them were made by a knife—not deep or dangerous. Just painful. Looks like someone cleaned them up though. That's why he's not fevered. Damn. I can close those up, but not until he's had food and rest."

"What about his ribs?"

Deena put her hand over the spot, almost touching. "Yes, they're cracked. They're healing well. It Feels like someone with a little Healing worked on them—but its...strange." she trailed off uncertainly, "Anyway, food then rest. I'll draw him a bath too. If he hasn't been on a horse before, he'll be sore as hell when he wakes up. Or he would be if his ribs weren't so much worse. We'll keep him in the infirmary here, for now."

"Drug addiction?" asked Ylsa bluntly, it was unheard of for a Companion to Choose someone unbalanced enough to become a drunk or an addict. However, 'unheard of' didn't necessarily mean it never happened. Ylsa had noticed several of the women had the languid expression and the pinpoint pupils of the poppy addict. Given what the boy had obviously gone through, she wouldn't blame him.

"No, I'd say that this was the first poppy he's ever had, given how much effect its had on him." Deena said, pulling the blanket over him, "Whoever was doing that pain block knew what she was about, He shouldn't have been able to draw a comfortable breath, let alone go about his business."

"How long will he sleep?" Ylsa asked.

"Not long, why?" Deena asked.

"I don't want him waking up alone in a strange place. Do you think I have time to clean up and change?" Ylsa wasn't comfortable in the borrowed uniform and she felt like the grime of the brothel was clinging to her. She'd been in worse places in the course of her duties, but never to retrieve a child

"Yes, you're right. You're going to have your hands full with this one. I'll have someone bring your things down and you stay in here with him. You can use the infirmary's tub if you want a bath. Water's hot, if you want to make a start. I'll have them bring some food down too."

"Bless you, Deena," Ylsa said sincerely. Deena handed her a few towels. There was a bathing room was in the back of the infirmary to make it easier for the healers. By the time Ylsa had run a bath and finally felt anything approaching clean, Deena had thrown Ylsa's bags into the room. When she was dressed again in her own uniform, she smelled food in the main room of the infirmary.

As if the smell of food roused him (which in truth, it may have), Neave stirred. He gasped and tried to sit up but the pain in his side stopped him mid motion. Deena walked around in front of him, "Need help, lad?" she offered. Neave looked at Deena with huge eyes and shook his head. Slowly he levered himself upright, sitting on the side of the bed.

Deena threw him a fresh shirt from the Guard stores, which landed beside him, "Don't get cold." she said, nodding at it. He nodded again and pulled the shirt over his head, moving very slowly.

"Hello," said Ylsa, coming to stand in front of him, "How do you feel?".

"Like hell," he whispered, "Where are we?"

"Border Guard post." Ylsa grabbed a chair to go sit near the boy so she wasn't looming over him.

Deena brought a clever folding table over and set bread and a bowl of broth on it in front of Neave. "You eat that now. If that stays down, we'll try something more substantial."

Neave looked doubtfully at the bread, Broke off a small piece and studied it for a moment. Ylsa assumed he was looking for bugs. He flicked away a questionable seed.

"In Valdemar?" He asked as he dunked his bread into the broth.

"Yes. Is that all right?" Ylsa said.

Neave looked warily at her, "Lady, I don't have anywhere to go, so it has to be." He hesitantly took more bread. "What do you plan to do to me?" he asked, again inspecting his bread. Ylsa didn't miss the wording. She didn't think it was accidental, although perhaps _he_ didn't notice it. Was the fatalism in his tone exhaustion or something deeper?

"_To_ you? Nothing without your leave." said Ylsa sitting back in her chair, "But, because you have a Companion, it's my intention to take you to Haven and train you as a Herald."

More bread disappeared as he seemed to think about it. "What do I have to do?" he said after while in that almost-whisper.

"Right now?" Ylsa smiled reassuringly, "I want you to eat and rest. We can talk about the specifics when you're stronger, but you'll go to the Collegium to take classes."

"Will...will Kyldathar be there?" he whispered.

He sounded so lonely and fearful that Ylsa's heart contracted. She resisted the impulse to lean forward and hug the boy. She contented herself with patting his hand. "Yes. She won't let anyone take you away from her. Not ever." Most of the bread and broth was gone now, Ylsa was pleased to see.

He nodded, perhaps a little dubiously.

Deena came bustling in from the bathing room, "Are you finished?" she asked, "There's a good lad. Keep that down for half a candle mark and we'll get you more. I've drawn you a bath."

"A bath?" He squeaked, "In this cold?" Ylsa wondered if he'd ever had a bath in anything but a horse trough, the way he said it.

"Those scratches can still get infected, and you could still take fever." said Deena a little primly.

Ylsa might have been happier if he'd argued, Instead he sighed resignedly and said "All right." going back to that quiet voice.

"I'll help him, Deena" Ylsa said, gently.

Deena smiled understandingly, "I'll just leave you to it, Ylsa" She went into her office to give them some privacy.

"I'll be all right alone." Neave mumbled, turning red.

"I don't think I want to risk you falling and hurting yourself more." said Ylsa, "So come on before it gets cold."

"Before what gets cold?" He asked sounding a little befuddled, confirming Ylsa's thought.

Ylsa stood, offered him her hand, "Come on, lad."

He started to rise without assistance then decided against it and took her hand. "I feel like hell." he said again, "Why do I feel so bad?"

"After effects of a long ride with an injury, mostly. Food and rest will put it right. A hot bath for those stiff muscles. Deena said she'd like to do some healing on those scratches on your back." Ylsa didn't add that the shock and trauma of whatever had happened to him was likely catching up with him.

After he stood, he let go of her hand. He was a head shorter than her, it seemed he hadn't started to get his growth yet, and thin as he was, the new shirt seemed to make him smaller.

Ylsa led him to the bathing room, picking up the towels Deena had left out. He moved very stiffly. Ylsa sympathized. Her first ride had been on her Companion when she had been Chosen. She'd thought she'd never get used to riding.

He didn't seem body shy, as he started stripping off his filthy clothes. Probably he was accustomed to washing in front of the girls of the brothel. Ylsa noted that he had many (some very deep) bruises in different stages of healing. And a peculiarly regular pattern of shallow cuts marked his forearms--again in different stages of healing. All appeared as clean as the marks on his back. She wanted to ask about them, but it was too early yet.

He hesitated climbing into the tub, probably expecting, at best, lukewarm water, at worst, water just above freezing. She stood nearby to help him if he had difficulty.

"Oh, its hot" he muttered in Hardornen, sounding surprised. Gingerly he sat down, hissing as the hot water caused the various cuts and burns to sting.

"Here's some soap." Ylsa handed it to him, tactfully averting her eyes, "I'll be just outside if you need me."

Ylsa picked up his clothing and went to find some clean ones. Deena had left some in the room for them. She tossed the dirty ones in the hamper meant for linens to be burned. She also picked up the foot coverings he'd been using—they were so worn that it was impossible to call them shoes anymore—and threw them in the hamper. The Guard post had soft leather boots that would do for now, until he could get riding boots in Haven.

"Ylsa?" he called softly, after a while, "Um, I think I'm done. I think I need help getting up."

She took some towels in, laid them on a little table just inside. Took the boy by hand and elbow and helped him get to his feet. She handed him a towel and then a shirt and loose breeches.

"Think you can manage some more food?" she asked him when he was dressed.

He nodded, again turning those large eyes on her, "Yes."

Deena had brought out more bread, and some cheese and boiled eggs. Neave made short work of this second meal. Deena came back in with a potion. "Here lad, take this. What you had this morning will be wearing off."

"What is it?" he asked cautiously,

"Valerian, knit bone and poppy. Not so strong as what you had this morning—we're not having you do anything strenuous, so it doesn't need to be." Deena explained patiently

Ylsa almost thought he was going to refuse. He looked at it for a long moment but then he gave a jerky little nod and took the cup from Deena, drank it down. Deena smiled encouragingly, "Good lad. Do you think you could sleep now?"

He nodded. He was looking heavy-eyed already, even before the potion had time to work. Deena got him laying down, "One of us will either be here, or in the next room," she indicated her office. Neave nodded again, sleepily.

Deena beckoned Ylsa into her office with a jerk of her head when the boy closed his eyes. She'd put food for herself and Ylsa on a little table in there.

"What do you think?" asked Ylsa finally starting on some food for herself. Deena had also set out some headache tea that Ylsa drank gratefully.

"That I want to get my hands around somebody's neck." said Deena grimly,

Before Ylsa could reply, there was a hesitant knock at the door to the outside corridor, it was Kris.

"Ylsa?" he said, "We're back, we're just going to go clean up."

"Good, Come in when you're done." Ylsa told him.

She turned back to Deena, "Before the lads come in, can you tell me how bad he is?"

Deena sighed, "Physically? He'll be all right. The ribs were cracked, not broken. Mostly it's pretty shallow injuries. What bothers me is not the extent of the injuries, but the intent."

"Meaning?" Ylsa said, steeling herself.

"Except for the ribs, all those injuries were done to inflict the maximum amount of pain, with the minimum amount of actual damage. Perhaps it was done as a punishment, perhaps for someone's entertainment, but that boy was tortured." Deena paused, her face gone hard, "You'll notice they stayed away from the hands, feet and face. As if they wanted to make sure he would still be useful."

"Gods." Ylsa felt her blood run cold, "When can we get him to Haven?"

"I don't want him to travel for at least two more weeks." said Deena firmly,

"All right, I'll contact Kyril tonight. I've delivered the last of my messages, so I can probably escort him myself." said Ylsa. "I think he might be better with me anyway."

Deena nodded, "He's very frightened. But he trusted you enough to let you get him here. Build on that."

They ate quietly for a few minutes, each absorbed in her own thoughts.

Dirk and Kris walked in through the hallway door with trays of food. "Do you mind if we eat in here, while we talk?" asked Dirk. They had both changed back into their Whites.

Deena made room on the table for them and they pulled up the extra chairs that sat in the corner.

"So how is he?" asked Kris.

"He'll be all right," answered Ylsa, "He mostly needs food and rest. But I have a lot of unanswered questions. Do you know how he got his ribs broken in the first place? Whatever happened to him, it seems to have left him in shock."

Kris looked troubled, "He didn't mention that he was hurt, but did he tell you about the girl who hung herself?"

Ylsa shook her head, feeling very out of her depth, "I kept him entranced until we got here. He hasn't said more than two words at a time to me, and then only when spoken to."

Kris sighed and repeated the story Neave had told him about Kira.

"I wondered what you were about when you asked for the horses to be brought out." said Dirk quietly.

"Did you learn anything?" Ylsa asked Dirk.

He looked grim, "The woman I was with had some pretty vicious bruises. She said she got them from some high born and his entorage two weeks ago. Sounds about the same time Neave got hurt. And did you notice how the law keepers went out of their way to avoid us? Like they just wanted us to be on our way with the boy."

"Fortunately, these particular out-of-control high born children are not our problem." said Ylsa, "I've about had it with the children of high borns." she finished bitterly.

"Sorry?" said Kris

"Oh, I forgot you wouldn't have heard. About a month ago, a group of high born children tossed Herald-trainee Talia into the river." Ylsa replied

Dirk and Kris looked horrified "You mean that pretty little girl Rolan brought back?" Dirk exclaimed, "Is she all right?"

"Yes, she's fine. She was just out of her bed when I left. Anyway, that's neither here nor there. I'm more interested in the puzzle this boy represents." Ylsa said distracted. No one from out kingdom had been Chosen since Alberich. Well, not anyone who wasn't already across the border. And strange Gifts were beginning to show up at the Collegium. The Foreseers had nothing to go on yet but a vague unease, but when the Companions started coming home with unusual Chosen, it generally meant hard times to come. "What can either of you tell me about the boy or where he came from? Even speculation and guesses will do."

Dirk shrugged, "I'm guessing that several of them were roughed up at the same time. The woman I was with didn't want to talk about the high born. She was in her cups and she was still afraid to speak of it. It seemed to sober her up quick. Fortunately by that time, she thought I was too drunk to be interested anymore."

Kris looked at Dirk, amused, "Oh really?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"She was under the impression that I'd had a few more than I did...Fetching's useful that way. Don't look at me like that," Dirk blushed at Kris' smug smile, "I'll keep to our sister Heralds, thanks. I was afraid she'd give me the pox or something."

"We haven't done the Guard's reputation much good." said Kris with a half smile, then he sobered, shook his head, "Well, I have little more than what I told you. The boy's been badly used, I'm afraid. He was quite suspicious of me--right down to watching me drink before him to make sure the wine was safe. I'm assuming that he didn't get his ribs broken by being kicked by a mule."

"No" said Ylsa, she didn't bother to enlighten Dirk and Kris about Neave's other injuries. It wasn't something they needed to know.

"All right, then. You two can head back to Haven tomorrow, assuming that you don't get waylaid by another hysterical Companion." Among her other messages, Ylsa had brought them their new orders, assigning them to the Court. Kyldathar had appeared shortly after Ylsa had met with them, demanding help for her Chosen.

Deena stood "I'm going to go check on the lad." she said opening the door back into the infirmary, "Ylsa..." Deena said after a moment, "He's gone."

Ylsa began to leap to her feet, then, :He's with us.: Felara, Ylsa's Companion told her.

:Is he all right?: Ylsa asked.

:As all right as he can be, right now.: Felara replied, :Perhaps you should leave him with Kyldathar for a bit:

"Deena?" called Ylsa, "He's with his Companion. Felara says we should leave him there."

Deena sighed, "All right, but at least make sure he doesn't get cold."

**

Neave struggled out of dreams of smothering and choking. He jerked awake to pain. The light in the room had shifted towards afternoon, he didn't know where he was.

When he remembered, it didn't help. The woman had said she was taking him somewhere, but the word was meaningless. He was certain something horrible was going to happen to him. His heart was pounding and all he could think of was how and where to run. There was no Mara here to provide him even a little protection.

:There's me: said that voice in his head. His panic didn't exactly subside, but it stopped increasing. :Why don't you come to me? We haven't had any time to get acquainted:

He was just wondering how he would remember the way to her stable, when it seemed to appear in his head. Without any further thought, he crept out of bed. Whatever the healer had given him, it helped some as he staggered down the hall. Even so, he might have given up if the Companion hadn't been in his head, gently beckoning him.

Kyldathar was there with three other Companions, who looked benignly at him. He found himself caught up in her eyes again. She was curled up on a heap of straw, inviting Neave to join her.

A thought occurred to him, "Am I going to get a thrashing for sneaking out here?" he asked Kyldathar, as he carefully settled down next to her. Not that he thought he much cared, but it was good to know.

:No: she said, firmly :First, Heralds aren't accustomed to thrashing children. Second, I'd kill anyone who tried.:

Deena's potion caught up with him again, and now that he was with Kyldathar, sleep seemed so much more appealing. A little while later, he roused just enough to feel someone tuck a blanket in around him.


	5. Chapter 5

The first few days they spent at the Guard post, Neave did little more than eat and sleep. Deena was determined that the majority of his wounds should be fully healed before he left her custody.

The wounds on his back were much better. All but the worst of them were Healed to white scars. His ribs were still very tender, but Deena said they continued to heal well. They were also healing at a much faster rate, now that he had adequate food and rest. Ylsa was pleased to notice that in five days time, he'd started to put on weight. Deena was feeding him five or six meals a day, when she could keep him awake to eat them.

Ylsa had little worry now, for his physical well being. She did worry about how he was in his mind. During the day, he was content enough to sleep in the infirmary, but every morning they found him asleep next to Kyldathar. He still only spoke when spoken to and then in that near whisper.

"Its partly exhaustion" said Deena when Ylsa asked her about it, "Give him some time to recover from that before you draw any conclusions. But he doesn't trust us. And why should he? I think the only one he trusts is his Companion."

"Should we get a Mind Healer to see to him when I get him back to Haven?" asked Ylsa.

Deena grimaced, nodding, "You might want to think about it. He might not be broken, but he's been cracked some. I pick up on it whenever I do some Healing on him. Those...injuries...bring up terrible fear and anger. As bad as I've ever seen in battle injuries. I've tried to do it as painlessly as possible, but just to have me sitting behind him, practically sends him into a panic. The first time I did it, I'm fairly certain Kyldathar helped him through it."

This merely confirmed Ylsa's own observations. She wondered if she should have had Kris stay. It seemed that Neave had opened up to him a little. However, that could have been simply a case of Kris being in the right place at the right time.

After a week had passed, Deena said it was time for Neave to walk outside under the careful watch of Ylsa and the two Companions. "You can't lie abed too long with cracked ribs—if you don't get your lungs cleared, you'll get pneumonia. And we'll want you fit for the journey to Haven" she told him. So Ylsa and Neave wrapped up against the early spring chill and took themselves outside. Ylsa guessed that Deena also felt it was high time for Neave to see people other than themselves, or he might become even more withdrawn than he already was

It was the first time Neave really saw the place, Ylsa knew. The Infirmary was down at the far end—as far as possible from the post's regular bustle. The Companions flanked them as they walked. A Guard passed them going the other way, with a salute for Ylsa and a friendly smile for Neave. Neave drew a little closer to Ylsa. Perhaps this was a sign he was beginning to trust her? He returned the Guard's smile with a tense nod.

They walked on in silence for a few moments. Another pair of Guards passed, saluting Ylsa. Neave looked sidelong at her. Ylsa decided that she would let Neave make the first moves now.

"Herald?" called a woman's voice, the turned around to see a sturdy Guards woman hurrying towards them, "Deena asked me to tell you that they're serving the noon meal in the hall. Perhaps, you're hungry?"

"That sounds fine to me," said Ylsa, thinking that Deena wanted the boy around people, "Neave?"

"Yes, ma'am." was all he said.

The Guards woman led the way, talking cheerfully, "You look better than when Ylsa brought you in. Broken ribs, Deena said?" she said to Neave.

He nodded.

"Those hurt. Broke three of mine a few years back. Fell off a horse." She smiled at Kyldathar, "Your lady there had the whole place up in arms until Herald Ylsa was on her way."

Neave looked a little unsettled at that, glancing at his Companion, "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't apologize." the woman laughed, "We'd do a lot more for a presumptive Herald." She patted Kyldathar's nose.

Neave's eyes were big and round, "Why?"

"Because if we didn't have Heralds, _our _jobs would be a lot more difficult."

Neave looked very thoughtful.

**

In another ten days, Deena pronounced Neave fit to travel. He was still quiet, although perhaps his voice gained some volume. He stayed very close to Deena or Ylsa when he was not with his Companion.

The morning of their departure, Ylsa showed Neave how to put on Kyldathar's tack. He was dressed much more warmly and sturdily for this ride. She'd found some civilian clothes for him so that he wouldn't get mistaken for a member of the Guard, She would have preferred Grays, but never mind.

"We'll not be on the road too long today." she told him, "And if those ribs start to get sore, let me know."

He nodded. She helped him scramble up into the saddle, where he sat looking nervous and ill at ease.

:Will he be all right?: Ylsa asked Felara.

:I think so.: Felara said, :Kyldathar knows what she's doing even if he doesn't.: Felara's mind voice was amused, :I seem to remember a little girl who had an even harder time staying in the saddle:

Ylsa smiled at the memory of herself as a twelve year old girl, astonished, frightened and excited. Felara had to convince her to climb into the saddle in the first place.

As they started down the road, Ylsa realized that Neave was smiling. A little crookedly perhaps, but it was the first actual smile she'd seen from him. Kyldathar must have said something to him, because she heard him chuckle quietly.

"What's the joke, Neave?" she asked gently.

He blushed a little, as if he'd forgotten she was there, "Oh, I was just thinking... Cook used to tell us that, if we didn't behave, the white demons would get us. Kyldathar says 'They did'."

Ylsa smiled, "I suppose so. Have you heard many stories like that?"

"Oh yes." he smiled a little again, "All about ghost horses stealing children and carrying them to dreadful fates." He patted his Companion's neck, "I used to wonder what worse fates they could be talking about." he fell silent again.

After a while, he said, "Herald?"

"Yes, Neave?" Ylsa replied, pleased that the ride seemed to be drawing him out a little.

"I-I'm getting the idea that Heralds are...well...important. I saw the way everyone treats you. Like an officer or a high born." He paused for a long time as if searching for words, Ylsa waited.

"Are the Heralds going to want _me?_" He said at last, "Are the Heralds going to want a whoreson..." he used the Hardornen word he must have been called many times, his voice fading to that whisper. He paused, swallowed, continued with a little more volume, "...a whoreson outlander?"

Ylsa took a breath, swallowed the lump in _her _throat, "You won't be the first outlander. Nor yet, the first whore's child to be Chosen." She stopped to catch his dubious eyes, trying to will him to believe her. "Anyway, the Companions are the final authority on who gets Chosen. No one will care who you _were, _only who you _are_."

**

The weather had turned to true spring. The nights could be cold, but the days were starting to warm. They spent their nights in Heralds way stations. They didn't talk much, partly because Kyldathar was giving Neave riding instruction as they went. As he hardened to riding, they were able to spend more time on the road.

Ylsa also didn't like to intrude on the formation of the boy's Bond with his Companion. One reason the Companions liked to whisk their Chosen away was that uninterrupted time together was the best way to foster the Bond.

They were two days out of Haven, overnighting at a way station, when Ylsa was woken from sleep by Felara.

:Ylsa? Kyldathar says her Chosen needs you.: Ylsa looked around, Neave was not inside. :Outside. By the fire: supplied Felara.

Neave had built up the fire again and was sitting, with his arms wrapped around his knees, staring into its flames. Kyldathar stood by him with her nose touching his shoulder. At Ylsa's approach, they both looked up. Neave's face was wet with tears, in the firelight.

"Neave?" She sat down beside him, "What's the matter?"

He sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve. Kyldathar gave him an encouraging nudge. "I should have stopped her." he said hoarsely.

"Who?" Ylsa was pretty sure she knew who he was referring to, but she thought she ought to hear the story first hand.

"Kira...she...hung herself. I should have stopped her." More tears began to fall, he bent his head to his knees. "I tried, but..."

Slowly, speaking into his knees, with many pauses, he told her the same story he'd told Kris.

When he'd finished, Ylsa said very carefully, "Dirk told me that the woman he was with had been beaten up some. And Mara said you'd had a difficult two weeks. Is this related somehow?"

Without raising his head, he nodded. "I think that's why she did it. His Lordship and his men ruined her." he whispered.

"Ruined her? You mean they raped her?" Ylsa saw Neave flinch at the word, but he nodded. "You need to give the act its proper name." she said, "A person's not ruined because they've been a victim of violence."

He didn't lift his head, but he turned it to the side so he could look at Ylsa.

"You were hurt, too." She said it as a statement, "So. Was it the same people?" She was longing to put her arms around the now trembling boy, but she knew it was likely to frighten him rather than comfort. Tentatively, she reached out and touched his hand. Surprising her, he took her hand in his.

He held her hand and tried to say something, but sobbed instead. He closed his eyes and nodded. Kyldathar danced uneasily, finally folding herself up behind him. Neave took a long breath, "Sorry." he said, he let go of Ylsa's hand.

She moved closer, brushed back his hair. Even with Kyldathar solidly behind him, he still shook. But, he didn't flinch away from Ylsa's touch. She leaned forward to look at his face, "Did they..." even as she steeled herself for the answer she already knew, she found the word stuck in her throat, "...do _that _to you, too?"

He hid his face in his knees again. Nodded.

Now, Ylsa put an arm around him. He stiffened, but didn't pull away, "I begin to see why you were Chosen." she said, softly.

"What do you mean?" He whispered, confused. He raised his head up from his knees. Leaned against her carefully.

"When you, yourself, were so terribly hurt, you had room in your heart to look after someone else." She put her head on top of his, staring into the firelight.

He shrugged, "Sometimes, looking after someone else is the only thing that makes it bearable."

Ylsa's own face was wet with tears now, "That's right." she said.


	6. Chapter 6

Haven was big. Neave had expected that. It was very comforting to be mounted on Kyldathar, rather than having to make his way on foot through the crowds. In Neave's experience, crowds were not particularly safe places.

Ylsa and Felara walked ahead of them through the winding streets. It took them the better part of a candle mark to reach the Palace complex. Ylsa nodded cheerfully at the Guard in dark blue who waved them in though a gate.

Neave's heart was in his mouth as Ylsa led him on. They came to a courtyard opposite a small bridge over a river. Ylsa hopped down from Felara's saddle. Neave dismounted more carefully.

"Come on, Neave." Ylsa said cheerfully, beckoning him towards the large door of the building..

They left the Companions to be led away by what Neave assumed were stable hands. :It's all right. I'll see you in a bit.: said Kyldathar gently.

A tall, black haired woman in a Herald's uniform came flying down the path. "Ylsa!" she cried, catching the woman in a hug which Ylsa returned with enthusiasm.

"Keren." Ylsa whispered, for a long moment they seemed to forget about him. Neave waited quietly.

Ylsa broke off the embrace first, "Keren, this is Neave." she said half turning to him. Neave nodded.

"Our new student! Welcome!" Keren smiled at him brightly, "I'll be teaching you to ride."

"Yes, ma'am." he said quietly.

"I won't keep you, I know Elcarth's expecting you." said Keren, her manner turning brisk "I'm teaching classes all afternoon. See you at dinner?"

Neave noted that they held hands longer than friends normally would.

"Yes, I'll see you then." said Ylsa, smiling at Keren so that her eyes shone. Keren turned to leave, letting Ylsa's hand go only reluctantly. Ylsa watched Keren go with a smile on her face before turning back to Neave.

"It's good to be home." She sighed. "Come on, I'll take you to meet the Dean. He's waiting for us."

"How does he know to expect us?" Neave asked confused.

"I can talk to him, in my head. Like Kyldathar does with you." She said, "Many Heralds have the Gift of Mindspeech."

"Oh." Neave wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he didn't have any time to think on it. Ylsa was hurrying in through the doors and into a maze of hallways.

Neave hardly had time to take in his surroundings, and he was too nervous to take much notice. Despite Ylsa and Kyldathar's assurances, he was not at all sure the Heralds would want him.

Certainly, he understood Ylsa when she said that Kyldathar's Choice meant they _had_ to take him. That was different from being wanted. He still had no idea why Kyldathar had Chosen _him_. He'd asked her and she'd said :Because you were the right one:.

Which was no answer at all.

Many of the people they passed greeted Ylsa, as they went by. A group of young people in gray clothes, boisterously talking and laughing together made room for them to pass. This was exactly the sort of group that made Neave's stomach clench. He focused on keeping up with Ylsa.

Finally Ylsa came to a door, knocked on it.

"Come in." a man called.

Ylsa gently put her arm around Neave's shoulder and led him in. She felt his trembling and she gave his shoulder a squeeze. His impression was of a small room just stuffed with books and papers. Neave had never seen more than one or two books in his life. Being in a whole room full of them was a little disorienting.

The man who occupied the room was white haired and birdlike. He smiled at Neave gently.

Ylsa said, "Elcarth, this is Neave. Neave this is Dean Elcarth."

Elcarth stood and found chairs for them both. "I am very glad to meet you, Neave." he said.

"Yessir." said Neave.

"Have you ever had any schooling before?" Elcarth asked.

Neave shook his head, a little embarrassed.

"Well, many of our Trainees haven't before they come to us, so don't let it bother you. Ylsa said you speak Hardornen and Valdemaran?"

Neave nodded.

"Do you read in either tongue?"

Neave shook his head again.

Their interview continued like this for some time. When the Dean started asking about figuring, Neave felt on more stable ground, as Garek had taught him to figure so he wouldn't get cheated at the market. Elcarth presented him with different figuring problems that Neave was able to solve without much trouble.

Neave knew he had a very good memory, as Cook had made him do her marketing for him since he was ten. She would rattle off lists of things that he'd have to remember to buy or be beaten for it when he got back. He hoped it would help him with all this study he was expected to do.

At the end of the interview, Neave was more tired than he'd felt in days.

The office door opened, another man in white opened the door and poked his head in. Elcarth smiled "Teren, I'm just about done with Neave here, if you want to help him get settled. Neave, this is Teren, he's one of our instructors."

Teren looked very like the woman Neave had met downstairs. "Hello," the man smiled cheerfully.

Neave nodded at him, tensely.

"If you come along with me, we'll see about getting you a room and introducing you to Housekeeper." he said kindly.

Neave glanced at Ylsa, who smiled and said, "I'll see you at dinner."

"Yes, ma'am" said Neave, getting up to follow the man.

When Teren had closed the door behind them, Elcarth asked Ylsa, "Has he been like that the whole time?"

Ylsa closed her eyes and leaned her head back on her chair, "He's gotten better, believe it or not."

"Gods preserve us." Elcarth sighed, "Kris and Dirk gave their report of course, but Kyril said there was more to the story?"

Ylsa opened eyes gone hard with anger. She told Elcarth everything she'd heard from the boy himself and everything she'd observed.

When she finished, Elcarth looked rather shaken. He swore softly, using language that would quite shock his young students.

"Do you think we should get a Mind Healer to see him?" asked Ylsa.

"Let me talk to some of the Healers. I think eventually, yes. But, I don't want the poor child to feel like he's under too much scrutiny. Perhaps we should wait until he settles in." Elcarth shook his head, "Now, explain to me about the woman who was taking care of him?"

"That was the damnedest thing. I still can't understand what Gift or combination of them she had. She established some kind of pain block on the boy. She wasn't a Healer though. She said she had just enough Gift to Shield out a casual Look from me. And she seemed to think the pain block would fail if the boy got too far from her." Ylsa rubbed her forehead, "I've been trying to figure it out."

"Oddly enough, I think Dirk came up with the answer." said Elcarth "You remember how his mother's a Healer and his father's a Bard?"

"Yes," said Ylsa slowly.

"He wondered whether the woman had a Bardic Gift. If she had that, but no Talent..."

"She could make Neave believe whatever story she told him!" Ylsa exclaimed, "Yes, that makes sense. She said it wouldn't have worked if Neave knew how badly hurt he was."

Elcarth nodded, "Dirk said his father sometimes helped his mother with patients who had a lot of pain." Elcarth's mouth quirked up at the corner, "He also said that his father used to tell a joke...'What do you call a Bard who can't sing? A prostitute'. As is often the case with what Bards say, there's truth in it. And she had to _keep_ telling the boy the story to reinforce the block. Otherwise it _would_ creep up on him. So she took it off all at once."

Ylsa felt better with that little bothersome mystery solved, "Any more trouble from the blues?" She asked, referring to the unaffiliated students, some of whom had been responsible for assaulting Talia that winter, "I don't want them giving Neave trouble."

"No." said Elcarth, "And I've asked Skif to keep an eye on the boy."

"Is that a good idea? Skif is always so...exuberant. I thought, perhaps-- I don't know—maybe one of the older boys..." Ylsa said dubiously.

"I think that Skif's friendship with Talia has steadied him a little. The only trouble he's been in since Sovvan, was doing a favor for Talia. He's also the only one whose background is anywhere near Neave's. He was quite sympathetic actually."

"That's good to hear. I've grown very fond of Neave." Ylsa said.

**

Neave spent that afternoon following Teren around and learning a great many rules. The Housekeeper had asked him about his life prior to arriving and Teren had supplied that he'd served at an inn when Neave had hesitated.

She'd put him down for serving in the kitchens three times a week and cleaning the common room twice. That made him relax a little, those were tasks he understood. He hoped the cook here wouldn't swear at him quite so much as Cook had.

Teren showed him a room with a small fireplace, a desk and a bed that he said was Neave's. Then the shared bathing room down the hall. And then he gave Neave just stacks of gray clothes, so that he could wear a clean set every day.

An older boy appeared when Neave was putting the last of the clothes into a drawer.

"Skif!" exclaimed Teren, "Just the person."

Skif smiled broadly at Neave, "Dean Elcarth asked me to show Neave around." he told Teren.

"Good." said Teren, "Can you take Neave to dinner and show him around this evening? I think in the morning you should take him to arms practice to have him talk to Alberich. I won't be holding an orientation class until the other three Companions come back with their Chosen, so perhaps you can take him to Keren after Alberich gets through with him." Teren turned to Neave, "Skif will help you find your way around. I'm going to sit down with the Dean and work out your classes."

"Yes sir." said Neave, he was feeling panicked again. What little experience he had with boys near his own age involved either fighting or fleeing. The other boy was older, taller, and moved like someone who could fight. Neave wasn't at all sure where he could flee _to._

Teren gave Neave a smile and walked off down the hall.

Skif didn't miss the younger boy's suspicious look or the way Neave sized him up. He also didn't miss Neave looking nervously down the hallway as if checking for ways to bolt. He recognized it from his former life as a thief. Elcarth told him that the boy had had a rough time.

Fortunately, Skif had an easy distraction at the moment, "If you want to change into your Grays, dinner's about to start." he said easily, with a bright smile "I'm just going to wash—I've been at arms practice."

"Oh." Neave said "Yes. I could do with a wash too." he'd gotten used to abundant hot water at the Guard post and rather missed being clean. He hesitated, then grabbed a clean shirt and breeches from the pile of uniforms, following Skif.

Skif tossed Neave a couple of towels and pulled off his own shirt, standing at one of the three sinks. Neave chose the one nearer to the door, confirming in Skif's mind that Neave had fears of being trapped or cornered.

"Throw your dirty stuff down there," Skif indicated the dirty clothes chute with a jerk of his chin. He finished washing his face, and turned to see that the younger boy was tossing his shirt where he indicated. He also saw an extensive tracery of recently healed scar tissue on the boy's back.

"What the _hell_ happened to you?" he exclaimed. Then he could have cut out his tongue.

Neave started, turned around with a rabbit-surrounded-by-dogs look in his eyes. Grabbed the side of the sink as if for support, "Some high borns got ahold of me." he whispered.

Skif very deliberately took half a step back, giving Neave some more space. "Ah, hell." He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned sideways against his sink in an effort to take the least threatening stance possible, "I'm sorry."

Neave shrugged. He pulled on his clean shirt. "Happens." He whispered.

Skif had the same flair of anger and protectiveness he'd been coming to associate with Talia. Every time she flinched from a raised voice, he felt it. When he found out she'd been the target of bullying and never mentioned it because she assumed she wouldn't be believed, he'd gotten the urge to. personally, track down and murder every single one of her relatives.

"Not here, it doesn't." Skif told him positively.

"Of course not." muttered Neave skeptically.

**

Dinner was an interesting affair for Neave. They piled more food onto the tables than Neave had seen in his whole life. He sat with a group of Trainees sitting near Ylsa and Keren. Ylsa gave him a smile and moved over so he could sit next to her.

Skif was intent on flirting with a curly haired girl. Neave had no idea what to say to girls who weren't prostitutes, so he kept his mouth shut. The boys at the table appeared friendly enough. Neave was reluctant to take much food--he wasn't sure how much was allowed. Skif took Neave's plate after Neave had finished what he had served himself, refilled it absently and put it back down without pausing in his talk with the others. When the servers brought out berry pies to the tables, the curly haired girl cut Neave a large piece and handed it to him before serving herself. She seemed to understand his hesitance.

Neave was starting to nod off by the end of it. Skif suggested they find their baths before there was too much competition for the bathing room. In a very short time Neave was in his new room asleep.

It was dark when he woke to his heart pounding. He leaped up, stood shivering in the middle of the room.

:Chosen?: said Kyldathar in his head, she'd been very quiet all day, :It's all right, I'm here.:

Neave pulled on a warmer shirt and his soft boots. He remembered the way to the courtyard and Kyldathar was there, waiting for him. She knelt so he could climb up without benefit of stirrups. She took him across the little bridge to the Companion's barn. In the safety of her stall, he was asleep in a moment.

Kyldathar nudged him awake at first light. :Someone's looking for you.: she said.

"Neave?" Skif was calling, "Cymry says you're already down here? You want breakfast?"

"I'm here." he staggered to his feet, brushing straw out of his hair, "Am I late for something?"

Skif came around the corner, "Stars! Did you sleep out here?"

Neave nodded, "I have trouble sleeping, sometimes." he said.

To Neave's surprise, Skif nodded, "Takes some getting used to...sleeping in an actual bed." he smiled, "Before I was Chosen, I lived on the street." he explained, "Thought I was stealing Cymry—turns out she stole me."

"You were a thief?" Neave said cautiously.

"And a pickpocket." said Skif cheerfully.

Neave returned Skif's smile with a tentative one of his own.

**

After breakfast, Skif took Neave over to arms practice. "Don't let Alberich scare you. He's all right, really." Skif said, "I have a class, but I'll come find you afterwards." he waved at one of the girls dressed in gray who walked over to them.

"This is Jeri." Skif said. "She'll take you over to meet him"

The girl smiled at Neave kindly. Neave gave her another little smile.

When they arrived, Neave understood why Skif had said not to let Alberich scare him. Alberich was an intimidating figure with a face seamed with scars. And he ruled the practice ground with an iron fist. This would evidentially be where Skif had learned to move like he did.

What was most startling was the man's accent. For a few minutes Neave couldn't place it, then he realized he'd never heard a Karsite speaking Valdemaran before.

After several of the other students had been put through their paces by the armsmaster, the man's eyes fell on Neave, "New student, you are?"

Neave nodded nervously, he was having difficulty with the man's accent. "What weapons training have you?" Alberich asked him.

"None, sir." said Neave, after a pause as he worked out what the man had said. He took a deep breath and said as respectfully as Cook ever taught him to, "Your pardon Captain, but my Karsite is better than my Valdemaran. Although to be truthful, neither is good." in Karsite.

The man looked astounded, as did the students within earshot. In the long silence, Neave wondered if he'd made a grave mistake. Just before he could work himself up into a real panic, the man said in Karsite, "I thought you were Hardornen?"

"I am sir, but we were on the Karsite border. Lots of people spoke Karsite in town. And-and a couple of girls from the--" he hesitated not being able to remember the polite word for it in Karsite "--my house were from Karse."

"And you call me Captain? Why?" he asked curiously.

Neave turned red, remembering belatedly, why Cook had always advised him to call Karsite Army Regulars "Captain". "It's something we always did at the..." he gave up looking for the polite word under the man's sharp scrutiny, "...whorehouse. B-because if you're a lower rank you can correct me. If you're higher you would have had a girl brought to you."

Unexpectedly the man smiled. "After we're done here, I think we should see the Dean. But for now, I repeat my question. Have you any weapons training?" he continued to speak in Karsite.

Neave shook his head.

**

A candlemark later, Neave walked beside Alberich on wobbly legs to the Dean's office.

The door was half open, "Yes, Alberich?" said the Dean curiously,

Alberich smiled broadly, "An unexpected talent we have. The boy speaks Karsite. Fluently."

"Karsite?" said the Dean blankly, "Do you happen to speak anything else?"

Neave swallowed, "Some Ruvanen. Enough Trade Tongue to close a bargain. A couple phrases of Shin'a'in that, I think, would question your parentage. And I think I can recognize 'Boy, get me some ale' however its spoken."

Elcarth blinked, bemused, "How did you learn this? You said you've never had any schooling...?"

"Cook's Hardornen was terrible. And I was in trouble if I didn't get her what she needed. The other stuff, I just sort of...picked up." said Neave very quietly

"His accent is what is spoken near the Hardornen border," confirmed Alberich, "Stranger, it is, that he speaks Valdemaran."

Neave nodded, "Mara taught me."


	7. Chapter 7

"_I'm not having witchcraft in my house!" Garek was yelling. _

"_Would you rather have me tell the law keepers __**you**__ did this? I'm sure they'd love to have someone to blame other than His Highness." __ Neave had never heard Mara so angry, "If I can't get this to work, he'll be dead by sunup. I don't care what those superstitious bitches think."_

_He was having a hard time breathing. Quite apart from the pain, it seemed as though each breath gave him less air. Nothing was so important as filling his lungs._

_His fear spiraled upwards as he realized he was dying. Every movement seemed to push the air from his chest and he was choking on the taste of blood..._

_:_Neave! Wake up.:

Kyldathar's voice broke through the vision. Neave opened his eyes to early morning gray. He knew from experience that it was no good trying to sleep any more tonight.

It had gotten too cold to keep sleeping with Kyldathar. Fortunately, although she said it was hard to Mindcall him during the day when he was busy or distracted, she was able to wake him when his dreams turned ugly. Otherwise, he didn't think he'd ever sleep.

Sometimes the dreams were just formless and frightening. Other times, like this morning, they were things he actually remembered.

He very firmly told those memories to take a walk.

He had more important thing to think about—and he had kitchen duty this morning. He dressed, put his room right and headed down to the kitchen.

Kitchen duty was not at all onerous. Much to his relief, Mero, the cook, never swore him and complained often that he was still too thin. Mero seemed to make it his mission in life to fatten up anyone he considered "too thin".

The only bruises he sported these days came from riding or arms practice. Riding and fighting were coming hard for him. Keren and Jeri (Alberich had turned over his fighting instruction to Jeri) both told him that his problem was that he couldn't relax and trust his body.

His first class of the day was arms practice. He arrived with the small group Jeri taught. Jeri was already there, sparring with Skif. It was lovely to watch, really. Like watching a pair of dancers.

After a few minutes, they were both covered in sweat and Jeri had bound Skif's blade, disarming him with a complicated little twist of her wrist. Laughing, Skif yielded to Jeri's pointed practice blade.

After a moment Jeri called over her next victim. Skif came to stand by Neave, "I see you've been sleeping inside this week." he said quietly, smiling.

"Got cold." said Neave, returning the smile.

A few other students joined them to watch Jeri. Some others came over to talk to Skif. Neave was watching Jeri, trying to figure out how she was able to keep track of everything her opponent was doing,

He felt a slight brush against his hip. Neave seemed to forget where he was for a moment. He reacted as he would have in the market place. Without conscious thought, his hand shot out, grabbed a pair of fingers, bending them backwards and turning towards the owner of the hand, "Do that again and I will break those fingers!" He spat in Hardornen.

Skif looked shocked for a second, then grinned. "Damn. You're the first one who's ever caught me!" He laughed, "Ease up, though. I might need that hand." If he'd understood Neave's threat, he gave no sign.

Neave blinked, suddenly aware of being stared at by the group of students.

He released Skif's hand, "Sorry...I...You---startled me." he'd seen Skif do that sort of thing to others before now, and knew he didn't mean anything by it. It was the first time Skif had pulled it on Neave, however.

"Ha! Skif's losing his edge!" called someone.

"Oh, I don't think so." Skif called back, "I think Neave's just faster than you."

Alberich strode over to the group. "There is something?"

"Neave caught Skif picking his pocket!" that was Griffon.

One of Alberich's unexpected smiles appeared. "Someone catches the scoundrel?" Alberich turned to the group in general, "Tell me why."

A silence, then "He's got Foresight?"

"Skif was slow."

Jeri had joined the group, "Skif isn't any slower than usual." she said. "Neave? Do you know?"

"Because...I...always had to be careful." said Neave, trying to figure out what Jeri and Alberich were getting at.

"Being hungry is a great motivator to being careful about what's in your pockets." nodded Skif.

Alberich nodded too, "Hunger is a harder master than I" he agreed, walking back to the students he'd been supervising.

Jeri called Neave over, "You're fast enough when you're not thinking about it. You try too hard. You've also got to show me that hold."

**

Neave's second class was equitation. He supposed he wasn't any worse than the other inexperienced riders and after spending all summer in saddle, he'd lost most of his fear . He still didn't have that effortless grace he envied in some of the other trainees.

Today, they were running the obstacle course. Kyldathar was perfect as always--the trouble was always with him. He could never seem to get his balance properly and it would throw her off. He'd taken a few spills, but nothing serious. Keren assured him that the falling and the getting back on were typical. "The problem would be if you didn't get back on." she'd say patiently.

Today was no exception. Around the second jump, he felt a hesitation as Kyldathar was somehow wrong-footed. She tried to recover, but he overcompensated.

He felt himself go flying over her head. He tucked his head as best he could and landed shoulder first. He heard a pop and then every bit of air was driven out of him. There was a confused moment as he registered he was on the ground.

He couldn't breathe. With rising terror, he fought to fill his lungs, but he couldn't draw a breath.

Someone was beside him, "Neave? Can you hear me?" Keren was saying urgently, He opened his eyes and clutched at her. He had no air to tell her what happened. Then, it seemed that whatever was preventing from breathing abated. He inhaled loudly.

"All right, lie still. You knocked the wind out of yourself." She said.

:I am so sorry!: Kyldathar was saying in his head at the same time. If she have been human, she would have been in tears.

He hushed her, trying to let her know he was all right. He began to struggle up. A grinding sensation and a sharp pain in the vicinity of his shoulder stopped him.

Kyldathar made a distressed noise.

"Dantris" that was Keren's Companion, "Says you're hurt?" Keren said sharply.

"My shoulder." he said weakly.

Keren helped him sit up. His left shoulder sagged and the pain brought tears to his eyes.

"Broken collar bone, I'd wager." Keren said, "Come on, Kyldathar. Help me take him to the Healer's."

Kyldathar obediently moved around and knelt. Keren got up behind Neave, reminding him of the day Ylsa had rescued him.

"Sorry." he muttered to Keren, realizing he'd managed to disrupt the class.

"Don't worry about it, youngling." She replied cheerfully, "Half of us break something, before we learn to ride really well. Your arm'll be in a sling for a few weeks is all."

It was cold as they made their way to Healers. Neave was shivering by the time they got there. The pain wasn't unbearable, but he found tears continued to leak out of his eyes. He wiped his face impatiently with his uninjured hand. Kyldathar didn't say anything but made her presence felt with wordless comfort and apology.

Keren felt the boy's shivering. She was glad they didn't have far to go, as he was clearly going into shock. She was also a powerful Mindspeaker. His surface thoughts were loud with pain and taking on the characteristic disjointedness of shock.

She Mindspoke to Teren, her twin, to let him know where the boy was. In all likelihood, the healers would want to send Neave to bed for the afternoon.

When they arrived, Keren supported him as they walked. One of the healers ushered them into an exam room, "So, what have you brought me?" she said briskly.

"Fell off his Companion." said Keren, "He says his shoulder hurts. I think its his collarbone"

"Did you hit your head at all?" asked the healer, taking off Neave's coat carefully. A large bloodstain spread across the front of his shirt.

He shook his head.

She had him sit on a high table so she could examine him. She picked up some shears and cut through his shirt to get a good look at his shoulder. The bone was clearly bent and poking forward, jagged edges of bone stuck out from under the skin. She placed a towel under the wound and poured warm water out of a basin from the top. It began to bleed sluggishly again. Neave closed his eyes, feeling a little sick.

"Looks uglier than it is." she looked at Neave, "I'm going to line up the bones. This will hurt, I'm afraid. I can give you something for it after I'm done. You'll have to wear a sling for a couple weeks."

Neave nodded, braced himself.

"Keren will you help me?" asked the healer.

Keren came to Neave's uninjured side, "Give me your hand," she said. He did so. She stood right beside him, grasping his hand, putting her arm under his elbow. "Now, lean on me."

He leaned aganst her. The healer finished cutting off his shirt and pulled some strips of cloth out of a drawer. She put her hands gently on either side of the break.

It was a good thing he was already leaning against Keren. The bright red flash of pain would have knocked him over, otherwise. He drew a ragged sobbing breath.

"All right, youngster." said the healer, "That's the worst." She efficiently bound up his arm and shoulder. He didn't open his eyes again until she was done. To his surprise, the skin was closed and looking no worse than a bad bruise. The shoulder still ached.

"You'll want something for the pain." the healer said kindly.

Neave shook his head. He'd stopped taking Deena's potions as soon as he could stand it. It was hard for Kyldathar to wake him up when he was taking those. It made him feel trapped.

There were other memories surrounding being drugged that he was _not _going to examine

"There's no virtue in enduring pain you don't need to." the healer told him gently.

"No. Thank you." he said, firmly.

"Do you have something that won't make him sleepy?" Keren asked the healer.

"Yes, but he should have something to help him sleep tonight." The healer said "Its going to ache like hell when he lies down."

"Why don't you give us both, then." said Keren logically.

The healer got the potions for them and told Neave that he needed to spend the remainder of the day resting.

He nodded.

"Ylsa's coming to take you to bed," said Keren, "I'll go let you're classmates know that I haven't gotten you killed."

**

:Ylsa?: Keren's mind voice was worried. :Are you busy?:

:No. What's wrong?: Ylsa was done with her class for the day and she didn't have anything else planned. She'd actually had a half formed idea of watching Keren's classes today just so she could spend more time with Keren.

:Neave took a header from Kyldathar. Broke his collarbone. He's mostly all right.:

:But..?:

:I think he needs someone with him.: Keren related the conversation she'd seen Neave have with the healer. :He was very adamant about not wanting to take anything to make him sleep:

:He said this?:

:No, he thought it loud enough to come right through my shields:

:I'll be there, now.: said Ylsa, hurrying.

**

Ylsa helped Neave into his bed where he sat looking rather pale. "Does it hurt much?" asked Ylsa.

"It's not bad" he replied, although the pallor of his skin and a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead told a different tale.

Ylsa sat down in his desk chair. She decided on the direct approach, since he wasn't likely to volunteer anything.

"Why didn't you want to take anything to make you sleep?" she asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

"It...I get bad dreams." he looked away.

"Well, this will take the edge off." She took the little bottle she'd brought and handed it to him.

He swallowed it with a grimace. "I don't know that I'll ever learn to ride properly." he said gloomily.

"Oh, you're much better than I was, six months after getting here." Ylsa smiled, "Ask Keren. I was terrified. I think thats how Keren got to be such a good teacher. She spent days with Felara and me."

Neave's smile was a little sly, "Were you really that bad, or were you just trying to get Keren to spend time with you?"

Ylsa grinned at him. "I'll never tell."

A knock inturrupted them. Skif poked his head around the door. "Hey, I heard you took a tumble." he saw Ylsa, "Hello Ylsa, I thought I'd check if Neave needed anything." he turned back to Neave, "You do realize that I've spent all day reestablishing my reputation? Now they're reckoning I just went easy on you. I know I didn't, but...well..." he smiled "I think I might have to prove it to them. Just don't break my fingers." He winked "Let me know if you need anything." He backed out.

"What did he mean?" asked Ylsa, curiously.

Neave told her about Skif's attempt to pick his pockets. Ylsa laughed, "He will have to try again!"

The door opened again, it was Christa, a girl from Neave's year group with a tray. She turned a little pink as she said "I thought you might like some lunch."

Neave looked surprised, "Oh. Thank you."

She put it on his lap and smiled prettily, "Um, I can bring you some dinner too, if you like...I have to get to class right now..." she gave Ylsa a little nod and then scampered from the room.

Neave felt rather stunned. "What was that about?" he asked.

"I think she likes you." said Ylsa shrewdly, "What do you think of her?"

"She's...nice" mumbled Neave, embarrassed. He ate a couple of bites of food. Then, he looked straight at Ylsa "What should I do? I don't know how to talk to a girl like that."

Ylsa raised an eyebrow at him "Like what?"

"You know...not..." he couldn't go on.

"A prostitute?" she supplied

He nodded, took few more bites.

Ylsa smiled "I don't think you need to worry. She clearly thinks you're nice enough. I've never heard you be anything less than respectful to anyone. Just be yourself."

"Mara would have smacked me into next week if I wasn't respectful." Neave said. He couldn't finish what Christa had brought, so he put the rest on the bedside table. His stomach was little unsettled.

"You miss her." Ylsa said gently

"Yes." Neave replied pensively, "She was...strange. I could never work out where she came from. She told me once, she'd run away from a bad marriage. A lot of the other girls didn't like her. Said she was a witch. They changed their tune after Cacilie got cut up."

"How long did you know her?" asked Ylsa

"About two years. She just appeared from a caravan looking for work. She was older than Garek usually liked. He used to like them younger than twenty. Sixteen when he could get it."

"Was Cacilie cut up by the same ones..?" Ylsa asked cautiously.

"The same group of high born who caused all the trouble?" finished Neave for her, looking a little haunted, "Yes. They cut her up pretty good, but Mara fixed it."

"She fixed it? How?"

"Oh, not like a healer would." Neave replied "Mara did things with herbs and...I'm not sure what. Cacilie looked better after and didn't take fever."

"Why didn't the law keepers intervene?"

"I heard some of them call the leader 'Your Highness'. He was _very_ high born."

Ylsa was cold inside. She felt very grateful she lived in a kingdom where there were limits on the power of high borns. If this had happened in Valdemar, Heralds would have been summoned.

"They left me for dead, you know. After they were done...playing with me...one of them kicked me. I couldn't breath. I guess they knocked the wind out of me. Like today." Neave looked tired, Ylsa guessed that the shock of the broken collarbone had left him feeling rather vulnerable, "They said they figured they'd done me in. They were going to pay Garek off to keep him quiet. I guess they did. They weren't supposed to make me unfit for work." Neave spoke in a flat, remote voice.

"Mara came in and made Garek let her take care of me. Said if he didn't let her, she'd tell the law keepers he did it. Said they'd rather blame Garek than the Prince. Garek didn't want to keep me. Said I was no use to him. Said I was too old, anyway. Most of the men who like boys want younger ones."

Ylsa closed her eyes against the horror. Opened them, to see Neave's frightened eyes. He seemed to realize what he was saying.

She Felt the brush of his thoughts up against her shields. Chief amongst them, was the fear that Ylsa would somehow blame Neave.

Ylsa moved to sit next to Neave on his bed, "I am very grateful to Mara." she said softly, taking his uninjured hand in hers. He started to cry into her shoulder. After a long time, he cried himself to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Ylsa tucked Neave into his bed after his long bout of tears, as she would have a much younger child. He opened his eyes in sleepy acknowledgement when she said she was leaving.

He hadn't told her anything she didn't know, but it was an important step that he'd told her himself. The whole conversation left Ylsa lonely and sick. It was one thing to guess, another to have the boy tell her outright.

She'd dealt with this sort of thing before, of course, and it was never easy. What she really wanted to do was find Keren and retire to their rooms for the evening. Instead, however, she'd need to talk this over with the Dean. Perhaps some of the other instructors. She tentatively reached for Elcarth, touching his thoughts. He replied that he was in his office and quite free to talk.

As she made her way to Elcarth's office. She was very glad that , unlike when she used to ride circuit, there were others who could help too.

"Ylsa? Is that you?" called Elcarth before she could knock.

"Its me." she said coming straight in. Elcarth was looking strained and Kyril was with him, apparently on his way out. "Everything all right?" she asked. Kyril was looking more serious than usual.

"There's no real emergency. At least, I hope not." said Kyril, "We were just trying to decide what to do with Dirk. He's depressed enough that we're worried."

"You mean over that Court bitch?" said Ylsa acidly, she'd heard some pretty nasty tales about this. Dirk had become involved with one of the Court beauties who was known for tearing up young men's hearts. There had been some kind of argument and Dirk had been left devastated by all accounts.

"I'm thinking we should give him some leave to see his family. I've also asked Selenay to see if she can get the girl's father to find the girl a husband before she has some lads at drawn daggers...again." said Kyril.

"Times like this, I miss Talamir most." sighed Elcarth, "He was good with the Court nonsense." he shook his head, "But that's not what you came to talk about."

"And I should go talk to Dirk." Kyril gave Ylsa a grave nod as he left.

Ylsa threw herself down in the chair Kyril had abandoned.

"Difficult afternoon, I take it?" asked Elcarth.

"I've had better." Ylsa replied, "Keren told you..?"

"About Neave's fall? Yes. She also said she thought he was fairly distressed about something else. Did you find out what?"

"Nothing new. Only that the poor thing is just as bad off as we feared. And that if I could track the right people down, I would become very unHeraldlike in my behavior." Ylsa's stomach was knotted with tension and her jaw hurt from where she had been clenching her teeth. "Bastards."

"Well, I did speak to the Healers about him--the biggest difficulty is that they're short again. You know how rare Mindhealing is. They had two go back to their home provinces in the past six months. They have two they're saving for the really dangerously unbalanced and one new trainee who is no more than eleven if she's a day." Elcarth sighed, "Unless the boy is on the verge of a breakdown, we have to help him ourselves." Elcarth looked at her worriedly, "He's not, is he?"

"No, I don't think so," she said after a pause, "And, Keren says his Bond with his Companion is quite solid. So we have that to work with."

"Good," Elcarth said, "I was a little afraid that, with his reticence, he might have trouble Bonding."

"I think we're seeing some cracks in that reticence. By the way," Ylsa smiled slightly, "I completely take back my reservations about Skif. He's been quite helpful in drawing him out. He was even trying to pick his pocket today. Oddly enough, Neave caught him."

"Alberich and Jeri have been trying to do something about Neave's hyper-vigilance. He's just too jumpy, according to Alberich. Jeri was the one who actually suggested that getting repeatedly sneaked up on might get him over it. And, of course, Skif's games are perfect for that." Elcarth said smiling in turn, "He seems to have an instinctive understanding of how to deal with our wounded birds."

**

Neave woke up that afternoon when Christa brought him in a tray of food. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to wake you up." She said, a little nervously.

"It's all right. Its really nice of you." he wasn't sure what to say, again. "Thanks."

"Do you want some company?" she asked, "While you eat?"

"Umm, actually, I might need some help." he realized that with one hand still bound up in a sling, he was going to have a hard time eating, "Can you..?" he indicated the knife she'd brought on the tray.

She giggled, "I didn't think of that. Of course." she cut up his food neatly.

Christa left the door open when she came in, the signal to other trainees that one wouldn't mind visitors. Neave never did that himself, it just hadn't occurred to him. Of course, he had spent all summer sleeping with the Companions.

Over the course of the evening, just about every trainee came by to see how he was. They didn't stay long, understanding that he was sore and probably tired (more than a few of them made comments about their own broken bones). It was something of a revelation to Neave that they all wanted to check on him. Christa stayed long enough to make sure he ate every bite she brought him.

"Are you going to class tomorrow?" she asked before she left, "You might need help with your books."

"I think I have to see the Healers before I'm allowed to get up." he mumbled.

She gave him a sunny smile, "All right then, I'll check on you tomorrow."

Griffon offered to help him rebind his arm so he could bathe and put on a shirt. The warm water was very soothing on Neave's aching shoulder.

"Christa's got her eye on you." smirked Griffon, "Maybe I should break something if it impresses the girls."

"No, its the strong silent thing that Christa likes," said Skif as he dried his hair, "She's been eyeing him for weeks. He's a captive audience now."

Neave just smiled sheepishly.

Ylsa came back to check on him before he went to bed. He was embarrassed after his performance this afternoon. He hoped that Ylsa would put down the tears to pain and shock. She seemed to--at least there wasn't any perceptible change in her manner towards him.

"How's it feeling?" she asked indicating the injured arm.

"Its not bad," he was telling the truth this time.

"You should take the stronger potion to help you sleep, though." she said, "If you don't sleep, it won't heal right. Maybe you could try half of it?"

He nodded agreement, it had been more painful when he lay down. Perhaps if he only took half, he wouldn't feel so drugged.

"The Healers said you should take tomorrow off too. Mending that kind of injury takes it out of you." Ylsa hesitated, then very gently hugged him, careful of his arm and shoulder, "No more broken bones for awhile, all right?"

"Yes, Herald." he said smiling a little.

**

_He walked through the darkened yard with a sense of foreboding. He knew that he must not draw attention to himself. Aware of every noise and movement, he crept into the dark building. He could hear them looking for him--if he was found he was dead. Worse than dead._

Skif woke up suddenly in a cold sweat. It took him a moment to register where he was. He was terrified to move and terrified to stay where he was. A paralysis seemed to have a hold of him and he couldn't even consider getting up to light a candle from his fire.

He reached out for Cymry, who was still sound asleep. :Cymry!: he thought at her as loudly as he could.

:Skif? Are you all right?: she asked him, starting awake.

:I'm not sure, I just had a terrible dream. And...I need you: he felt a little foolish waking her up for a nightmare, but the fear still gripped him.

:Its all right...what were you dreaming?: She asked him

:I'm not even sure now.: the dream and the fear was fading the more awake he was becoming. :Sorry, that was just scary:

:That's three nights now--I think you should mention it to someone. It doesn't seem right. You've never had nightmares like that.: Cymry said worriedly.

Skif agreed. This was not something he was usually prey to. He had the odd nightmare now and again, but this felt different.

He had a class in using his Mindspeaking Gift with Ylsa the next morning. Cymry thought the nightmares could have something to do with his Gift. It had only started to wake up in the past year. He was still learning the trick of keeping his thoughts in his head and other people's out

When the class was done, Skif loitered behind when the other two students left. He worried that Ylsa wouldn't take it seriously. In daylight, he had a hard time taking it seriously. It was only that Cymry was insistent that he talk to someone that made him bring it up.

"Yes, Skif?" she asked.

"I was wondering, can learning to use a Gift cause nightmares?" he wasn't sure how he could describe them to her.

"Not normally," Ylsa said slowly, "Why?"

"I have been having the most horrible dreams. Three nights running now. Cymry seems to think its got something to do with my Gift." Skif shrugged, "She reckoned I should ask you."

"Can you tell me about them?" Ylsa pulled her chair up to the table again and indicated he should as well, "If Cymry thinks it has to do with your Gift, it probably does."

Skif rubbed the back of his neck, "I can't really explain them. They seem to disappear when I wake up, but last night I was hiding from something or someone. And they're always really scary."

"Could it be something from your past? As a thief you hid from people a lot."

Skif shook his head, "Not like this. I wake up and I'm shaking all over. It's as if I'm going to die or the world's going to end, or both. And then I wish it would, just so I can stop being so afraid. And then it just...evaporates"

"Has anyone else had nightmares?" asked Ylsa.

"I don't know." answered Skif confused.

"I want you to work on your shielding tonight before you sleep. It may be that you're picking up from someone else. It can be a little strange until we get our Gifts completely under control." Ylsa told him confidently, "If it happens again let me know and we can try something else."

**

Ylsa made some inquiries of the other instructors. It seemed that they had noticed an unusual amount of tiredness from some of the trainees. When the trainees were asked, most of them confessed to disturbed sleep from nightmares. And all of them were either untrained or half trained Thoughtsensers of one variety or another.

"Someone's got a Gift waking up?" asked Keren as they sat together that night.

"That's the only thing it could be," replied Ylsa.

"Who do you think it is?"

"I've got a few candidates in mind--Talia, Christa, Neave and Sherril."

"Why those four?" Keren asked curiously,

"Talia because I've only taught her to keep people out, so far. It could be that she's starting to project. Christa because she has some Gift, but it hasn't become strong enough to identify yet. Sherril, because she's so blocked that it could be leaking out when she's asleep. And Neave because of what I picked up from him the other day." Ylsa sighed, "Of the four, Talia and Neave are the only ones who are likely to be projecting that much pure fear. A couple of people complained about feelings of smothering or choking, but if it were Talia, I'd expect them to talk about drowning. Talia is close to you--has she complained about nightmares?"

Keren shook her head, then she said thoughtfully, "You know, the day Neave broke his collarbone--he was so _loud_ in his thoughts. I put it down at the time to just general distress but..."

"I was thinking that too." said Ylsa, "I'm going to sit up tonight and see if I can't find out."

"Want help?"

Ylsa smiled and took her hand.

Later, Ylsa was glad she had Keren anchoring her. They had sat together with Ylsa unshielded, waiting to see if the dreamer would project again. About midnight, Ylsa began to pick up rather frantic strains of fear. She had just enough Empathy to be caught by it. It was formless and suffocating and accompanied by sounds of people arguing. Ylsa's heart raced and the overwhelming feeling was that she was dying.

:Ylsa!: called Keren, snapping her out of it. Ylsa more carefully probed, blocking out the emotions to hear the words and track the thoughts to their source. Abruptly, the sending stopped.

Ylsa took a long breath, dropping out of trance, :Felara? Ask Kyldathar if she's been waking Neave out of nightmares.:

:She says, yes. Most nights.: Felara replied.

"Well, that answers that." said Ylsa aloud, "I wonder that half our trainees aren't hysterical with it."

"If Kyldathar's been waking Neave up, it seems that the dream doesn't have any time to evolve into something more intense." said Keren. Dantris had passed on Felara's conversation with Ylsa as he usually did.

"That was intense enough." sighed Ylsa.

"Come on love, let's go to bed." Keren stood, still holding her lifebonded's hand, "We can't do much about it right now. One more night won't hurt anyone."

**

Neave's mornings were free at the moment. Until the Healers said his collarbone was completely healed he was excused from both Keren's classes and arms practice. He spent that time with his Companion. This morning he asked one of the stablehands to help him saddle her. The Healers had cleared him for riding again.

:How's the shoulder?: asked Kyldathar.

"It's a lot better." said Neave. They wandered through the Field, just being together. Neave didn't really think about anything. It was cold and bright. An unaccustomed peace settled around his heart.

:Ylsa and Felara are looking for us.: Kyldathar said suddenly. :They're coming out here.:

"Am I in trouble or something?" Neave asked nervously. He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, even after all these months.

Kydathar's mind voice was gentle, :No Chosen, she's concerned for you.:

Ylsa and Felara caught up with them after a few minutes, "Hello." said Ylsa. Felara paced beside Kyldathar. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore. Not bad." he said. They walked on in silence until Neave was feeling a little unnerved

"Have you been sleeping?" she said abruptly.

He wondered why she asked "As much as I ever do. I've always had nightmares. Why?"

"What do you know about Herald's magic?" she asked him in what seemed an odd change of topic.

"Next to nothing...I know they...we...do magic, but I've never been able to work out what it is. I know you did something to me when you rescued me, but I don't quite understand what. It was really different from what Mara did though. But what's that got to do with me sleeping?"

"I think you've got a Gift beginning to manifest itself. And I think you've been sharing your nightmares with your other trainees."

He looked at her equal parts astonished and horrified, "Me? Sharing my...? How is that possible?" His distress brushed against her shields, confirming the type of Gift Ylsa suspected.

"I'm not sure why it should wake up now, sometimes it just happens a little early. We generally wouldn't start training you now, but I think we should at least teach you to keep your thoughts in your own head." Ylsa smiled. "I think you're a projector. Its not unlike the Bardic Gift--I expect you'll learn to Mindspeak as well. Some of the Bards have a little Mindspeaking as a matter of fact."

Neave was deeply disturbed, "So, people have been hearing my dreams? " he said quietly.

Ylsa nodded, "They're pretty bad, from what I understand. I think, maybe we can do something about those, too. Elcarth is very good at teaching shielding. He's also very good at listening if you want to talk."

"What's to talk about?" Neave suddenly had returned to speaking in that near-whisper he had used in the first few days after being Chosen, "Talking doesn't change the past. It doesn't change what's happened..." he stopped. Ylsa noticed he had wound his hands in Kyldathar's mane.

"Yes, but it can change how you feel about it. And if you'll trust us, I think we can help you with those nightmares."


	9. Chapter 9

Neave was more than a little mortified to discover he'd been sharing his dreams with his fellow trainees. Fortunately, it seemed that they were incomprehensible to most of them. The emotions were mostly what came through. He'd also been a little worried about what they were likely to say if- when- they found out he was the source.

He discovered he needn't have worried. Most people took it in their stride. Were even sympathetic.

He wasn't sure he was happy with all this talk of Gifts. Kyldathar, Ylsa and the Dean kept reassuring him that it was neither his fault nor unnatural, but Neave couldn't shake his uneasiness about it. He remembered too well the tales he'd heard of demons and evil spirits. Mara had always told him that the stories were nothing but nonsense, and somehow her powers (or Gifts, he supposed he should call them) never seemed that unsettling. To think of himself having one of these Gifts, that was different.

Dean Elcarth had spent a considerable amount of time with him, teaching him how to keep his thoughts inside his head, even when he slept. The Dean also gave Neave some books to read on the subject of Gifts and their uses among Heralds. It had kept him busy while his shoulder healed.

One good side effect of his injury was the amount of time it gave him to study. He was beginning to discover now that he'd mastered reading that he liked it. Perhaps not everything, but he liked a tale as much as the next person.

He only lost three weeks of fighting practice to his injury. To his surprise, he found he was starting to gain some skill. Riding was still a struggle, so he spent every minute of spare time he could in the saddle to make up for lost time. At least that was his excuse, often he just wanted to spend more time with Kyldathar.

Skif had taken it as a challenge to sneak up on Neave. Neave was very difficult to catch out. A lifetime of ducking blows and making himself scarce when necessary had given him an awareness of his environment that some of his fellow trainees attributed to a Heraldic Gift. It wasn't, Neave knew. Skif had taken to picking Neave's brain about how Neave caught him every time.

"Not a chance, Skif." said Neave as he sensed someone coming up behind him. He turned and grinned at the older boy. "You were backlit by the candle in the hallway--I saw your shadow."

Skif sighed exaggeratedly, "You are not doing my reputation any good." He threw himself into the other chair.

"But I keep you in better practice than anyone else."

Skif returned the grin, "Too true. Most of the trainees are like sheep waiting to be sheared. Once Alberich gets done with them they're harder--but not much. If we were still on the street I wouldn't consider trying to pick on someone like you "

"Only because you'd know I had nothing to steal." Neave replied dryly.

"There is that." Skif said.

"I-uh- noticed you didn't come back until late last night.' Neave said with studious nonchalance "So...?"

"So...a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell." Skif said loftily,

"Yes, but I was talking about you, you nit."

Skif smiled slyly, before admitting, "I was with Talia."

Neave's eyebrows went up, "And...?"

"We didn't get too far. She's a little shy, and well..." Skif held his hands open in front of him, "...You know. I don't want to rush her."

Neave nodded understandingly, "Probably best. Especially if she's never..?" he made a question of the unfinished statement.

"Yes, exactly." Skif said, "So...how about you? Have you and Christa..?"

"About the same...Mostly for the same reason" Neave didn't enlighten Skif that it was he rather than Christa who was shy.

Skif smiled, "Well, since neither of our ladies are available tonight, can you help me with my Hardornen?"

**

Neave was surprised by an invitation from Drake and Edric, two boys-twins- from the years group ahead of his to spend Midwinter with them. Their parents were both Heralds, but they spent their Midwinter at Drake and Edric's grandfather's who was a retired Guardsman. Neave nervously accepted. To his relief, their grandparents were at least as kind as any of the people he'd met in Valdemar thus far.

Before he'd been at the Collegium a year, he would surprise himself if he saw himself in a looking glass. A young, serious looking man would gaze back. Months of good food had added inches of height. Months of arms practice had taught him to walk confidently. Like someone who was important. He would see this and shake his head, still baffled by Kyldathar's Choice.

**

"Why don't you ever stay?" asked Christa as Neave was putting his breeches on. She lay in bed with the covers pulled up over her breasts. She reached out her hand to him.

He smiled, took her hand, kissed it. "You wouldn't want me to. I kick. Steal blankets. Snore. You wouldn't get any sleep."

"Who told you that?" she asked teasingly.

"Kyldathar did. She's told me any number of times." much as he liked Christa, sleeping in the same bed with her was not something he thought he could do. After two years at the Collegium, his nightmares had decreased in number and intensity, but he really didn't want to have one with someone else nearby. Truthfully, he doubted he'd be able to sleep at all with someone else.

He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on socks and boots. Christa reached up and rubbed his back under his shirt, "Please, don't do that." he said quietly.

She stopped, "Does it hurt? I'm sorry."

"It doesn't hurt. It just feels damned uncomfortable. I don't have feeling in some spots and its...just uncomfortable." he finished.

"How did it happen?" she asked.

He looked back at her face, wondering how she would react to the whole story. They regularly partnered each other in bed, these days, but it never had any feeling of permanence to it. They were good friends. Neave valued their friendship. "I don't like to talk about it." He didn't want to have to look into her eyes and see either horror or pity.

Very deliberately, he leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss goodnight, "And anyway, we need to get some sleep. I've got the class in learning to use my Gift starting tomorrow. To be truthful, I'm more than a little nervous about it."

**

Ylsa was in one of her contemplative moods when Keren got back from teaching her last class. She was standing with a glass of wine and staring out the window.

"What are you thinking of?" asked Keren recognizing the look.

"I don't like the number of wild Gifts that are showing up here." said Ylsa thoughtfully, "Nor do I like the number of Companions who are leaving to Choose."

Keren nodded. The Companions liked to wait until the summer to Choose, unless their potential Chosen was somehow in danger. It was early Spring and already five had gone out. "What wild Gifts are there?"

"Well there's Neave. I think the last Herald we had who was anything like him was Jadus. And Jadus started out as a Bard. Neave's MindSpeaking will never be strong, but this projection is more Bardic in nature. I've actually arranged for him to take classes over at Bardic. When he exerts himself to convince people they _are _convinced. Then there's Talia. We've been going after the wrong Gift for months." she stopped for a moment, thinking.

"Wrong Gift?" prompted Keren.

"Sorry, woolgathering. She's an Empath primarily. I'm wondering if I should send her over to Healer's like I sent Neave over to Bardic. And Christa--she's a wicked strong Fetcher. Dirk and she have been spending hours on end at it. And there's Griffon's Firestarting." Ylsa turned from the window to look at Keren "I don't like it."

Keren nodded in agreement. Gifts tended to show themselves at the Collegium just before they were needed. Some people theorized that the Baron Valdemar had laid spells into the foundation of the land that caused that effect. Whatever caused it, Keren was beginning to share Ylsa's unease. "We haven't had this amount of odd Chosen since the Tedrel War." she said, "And not just in their Gifts."

**

"How long do you think you'll be gone?" asked Keren watching Ylsa pack.

"Not long. Its just some messages Selenay needs delivered quickly and then I'm back." Ylsa replied, smiling at her lifebonded. She kissed Keren lovingly. "See you soon."

**

"Herald, I'm a dead man, already." the man looked bleak and fey as he said this, "The Lord will know I've stolen these letters by now. There's not any other it could be." he pressed five black ringed arrows into Ylsa's hand. "I've got a fast horse and I don't think they've followed me. But unless the Queen moves on this, they'll find me soon enough. Chances are they'll find me anyway."

Felara and Ylsa made the kind of speed only a Companion could make.

**

Neave awoke to the sound of the Death Bell. He'd heard it before, but this time he also _felt _it. It was as though a piece of his heart had been ripped out. He was out of bed and dressed in three breaths. A few other Trainees stood uneasily in the hallway. "Does anyone know who it is?" someone asked softly.

Neave was completely numb. He heard his own voice say "It's Ylsa." Then he stumbled down the hallway, not looking at anyone who passed him. He realized that he not only knew who it was, but a little of how.

He knew she lay dead from a sword strike on the Northern Road.

His only thought was to reach his Companion. He reached the courtyard where Kyldathar waited, as always. He walked with her into the Field. The other Companions looked as grief stricken as the Heralds. They all gathered in little groups apparently comforting each other.

Neave stood with Kyldathar, not knowing how long. The light turned grey and then gold. He put his head to her neck. After a very long time, in the silence, he heard soft steps in the grass.

"Neave?" It was Dean Elcarth, "I was worried. No one knew where you'd gone."

"Sorry." whispered Neave into Kyldathar's neck, he cleared his throat, "How's Keren?" he didn't look up.

"Teren's with her and Sherril. I think...I think she'll be all right." Elcarth replied. "But, what about you?"

"Me? I'm-I don't know."

Elcarth walked forward, put a hand on Neave's shoulder, "She was very fond of you, you know."

Neave nodded, still pressing his forhead to Kyldathar's neck. Elcarth didn't like the way Neave was retreating into himself. He cast his mind about for a way to bring the grief to the surface where it could be eased rather than buried.

"It seems that those who ordered her death have been found." said Elcarth quietly, "They're to be executed."

Neave finally turned around, his eyes were tearless and red. Elcarth had never seen the quiet boy angry before, "Good." he hissed. "I hope they choose a slow method."

Elcarth nodded, "I hope so too." he said in a hard voice, eliciting a look of surprise from Neave, "Bastards."

The numbness of shock was beginning to wear off, and Neave realized that he'd been standing out in the Field for candlemarks. He was cold.

:Go inside, Chosen: said Kyldathar gently. :Get warm. Eat something.:

"Will you come in?" said the Dean gently, echoing Kyldalthar. He hadn't taken his hand from Neave's shoulder, "It helps to be with others who knew her well."

Neave nodded, let himself be drawn by Elcarth's arm around his shoulder.


	10. Chapter 10

The night was turning chill as Neave made his way from the Bardic Collegium. It wasn't terribly late, but with the nights drawing in, it felt much later than it was. By the smell of the air, they might have snow by the morning.

He reached out to Kyldathar to see that she was comfortable. :I'm fine, love: she replied sleepily.

He took the short cut through the atrium of the Great Hall. After four and a half years, he had learned a great many short cuts. Dinner at Court was served somewhat later than at any of the Collegia and there were still quite a few young courtiers hanging around. Neave nodded and smiled politely to those who greeted him.

He turned to the hallway that led to the Heralds wing and to the Trainee's dormitory. It was not much used this time of day and only every other candle was lit. He heard a male voice speaking softly as Neave passed one of the cross corridors, one that led to one of the store rooms. He didn't think much of it--many young lovers sought out the privacy of these niches for their trysts. However, the female voice that replied was shrill.

That brought him up short--something about her voice gave him a bad feeling. He retraced his steps and turned down the short corridor. The door at the end was shut. Very quietly he leaned his ear close to the door. The man's words were indistinct, but the tone was wheedling, cajoling. The woman's voice, however, was rising in volume and pitch, "Milord," she said, "Please. Just leave me alone."

That was enough for Neave. If he was wrong in his assumptions, he could always claim he was looking for something in the storeroom.

He opened the door slowly. The man faced away from him and had the woman (a girl really) apparently pinned against the wall. The man's hands held the girl's skirts. She had one hand on his wrist, one hand on his chest and appeared to be pushing him away.

"Is everything all right?" he asked mildly.

The man turned halfway around, not letting go of the girl, "Everything's fine" he said haughtily, "Now, go." Neave realized that the man was probably about the same age as himself and likely quite drunk, judging by the slurring of his words and the odor of wine Neave could smell from five feet away.

"I was asking the lady." Neave said using that same mild voice. Neave's stomach fluttered, but he took two deep calming breaths as he had been taught. The girl was looking at him with a pleading expression. By her clothes, she was one of the servants, "I distinctly heard her ask to be left alone." He let go of the door, giving it a little push as he did so that it swung completely open.

The other man let go of the girl, turned to face Neave completely, "This is none of your affair." he snarled.

Over the man's shoulder, Neave saw the girl pulling her disheveled clothes together, her face was colorless in the candle light, "Please," she said, her voice was frightened, "His Lordship's had too much wine. And..."

The young man turned and backhanded the girl, "Quiet, slut." he said.

"That's enough." said Neave coldly, he moved two steps closer before the drunken man had time to turn back around. The man seemed to take ages to register that Neave was so close, Neave had plenty of time to grab the offending hand and twist it up around the man's back. He pushed the man to the ground with his knee in his back.

Neave realized he was very close to breaking the man's arm when Kyldathar called sharply :Chosen! Enough!:. He let go of the arm and hauled the man to his feet by the collar.

"I suggest you go find another way to spend your evening." He snarled in that same cold voice.

The man started to babble something about his father, "My father will find out who you are! He'll have you up on charges when he does!"

"I'll save him the trouble. I'm Herald Trainee Neave. I'm sure Dean Elcarth and Herald Kyril will be at his disposal to discuss this incident." Neave's calm, chilly voice seemed to unnerve the man more than anything. When Neave let the man go, he staggered backwards a few steps, then turned and fled. Possibly to go find his father.

Neave turned to the girl, she was leaning against the wall where she'd stumbled when she'd been hit, "Are you all right?" he asked gently.

She shook her head, started sobbing.

Neave thought quickly, the young "gentleman" might have half the Court here in a minute. He was sure the poor girl could do without that. He didn't like to take her to the servants quarters--he'd have to take her through the atrium. "Come on, miss. I think Housekeeper will still be up." he noticed a bruise beginning to bloom on her cheek. He hoped what he'd interrupted hadn't gone too far.

He took her through the doors to the Herald's wing. Fortunately, most of the Courtiers were too intimidated to wander the Herald's wing with impunity. They didn't meet anyone as they made their way to Houskeeper's door. Neave wished a Herald would appear, but none did. The poor girl was still crying, albeit more quietly now. Neave wished he had a handkerchief. The girl's crying was making his stomach hurt.

They finally reached Housekeepers door. Neave knocked. Houskeeper answered after a moment, "Neave?" she said surprised, "What...?" she stared at the weeping girl.

"I'm sorry, Housekeeper. I'm afraid the young lady's in a bad way. I'm not sure what to do. Could you...see to her?" He wondered if the girl might need a healer.

"Of course, dear." Housekeeper said, "But what happened?" she reached out and drew the girl in through the door.

"I'm not sure. There was-- a problem-- with one of the younger Courtiers...I came in at the end. He hit her, but I don't know what else happened. I'm sure she could tell you." Neave thought that the girl might be more likely to explain to Housekeeper what happened if she didn't have an audience, "I have to go see the Dean."

**

Neave had never been to the Dean's personal quarters before. Housekeeper helpfully told him where they were. Neave thought it would probably be better if he informed the Dean about this before all hell broke loose in the form of enraged courtiers.

He took a moment to reach out to Kyldathar who sent back her strength, as always.

Neave was relieved when Elcarth answered the door looking as if he had not yet retired for the evening, "I'm sorry to disturb you," Neave said in a rush, "But I think I may be in some trouble."

"Oh?" asked Elcarth "What sort of trouble?" he looked surprised. "You'd better come in and explain." He turned and Neave followed. Elcarth moved a stack of papers off the couch where he'd been reading them back to the desk. Indicated Neave should sit down and pulled one of the other chairs closer.

Neave explained the whole incident to the Dean, "He said he was going to have his father bring me up on charges." Neave finished.

The Dean looked very grave, "Where is the young woman?" he asked.

"I left her with Housekeeper." replied Neave

"Why didn't you bring her with you?" Elcarth asked curiously.

"She seemed so upset...I thought that she needed to be somewhere safe. I wasn't sure if maybe she needed a healer. He hit her pretty hard. And I really don't know what happened before I came in. I thought that Housekeeper would be in. Otherwise, I think I would have taken her to Healer's." Neave shook his head, "I didn't want to scare her more than she already was."

Elcarth got that "listening" look he had when another Herald was Mindspeaking to him, "Well, it seems the young man's father has found Herald Kyril already. I've told him you're here. They'll be here in a moment."

Neave took a long breath.

Elcarth stood and brushed off his tunic, poured himself a glass of wine from the sideboard, "He hit the girl before you took him down? Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, sir."

Elcarth nodded to himself. Someone rapped on the door. "Come" called Elcarth.

Neave stood as Herald Kyril and a Lord Neave didn't know swept into the room. Apparently the son was not to be part of this interview. Neave planted his feet solidly and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Is this the boy?" demanded the Lord.

"This is Herald-trainee Neave." said Elcarth, "Can you explain what the trouble is?"

"Apparently he attacked my son because the girl he'd arranged to meet spurned him for my son. Damned near broke his arm." the Lord said grimly, "I think that charges for assault should be pressed."

Kyril looked at Elcarth and Neave was fairly certain that Elcarth was filling him in.

"Well, boy? What do you have to say for yourself?" roared the Lord.

Neave looked at the Lord levelly, "I found him forcing his affections on a female servant. I asked the young woman if she was all right. She said that he'd had to much wine. He struck her. I stopped him."

"Ha! So you say. Where is the girl, then?" the Lord asked aggressively, looking around.

"She was hurt and upset. I took her somewhere safe." Neave hadn't moved so much as a hair. He was so tense he wasn't sure he could. He wasn't going to give the Lord the opportunity to go charging off to frighten the girl to death.

"Now, even if what your son said is true," said Kyril gravely, "It seems just a scrap between the lads, not something you want to press charges on."

"And I'm telling you, this boy damned near broke my son's arm!"

"I beg your pardon my lord," Neave said respectfully, "I've been training with Alberich for over two years now. If I had meant to break his arm, it would be broken." He wasn't going to inform them of how close he came, if possible.

Neave thought that the corner of Elcarth's mouth had quirked up for a second.

"If I am to be charged, my lord," continued Neave, "I request to be Truth Spelled."

That brought the Lord and Kyril up short. Elcarth looked completely unsurprised. Only one who was very sure of his innocence requested to be Truth Spelled.

"Aye, go on then Kyril" blustered the Lord.

Kyril exchanged another glance with Elcarth. Kyril turned his attention to Neave, invoking the Spell, "Neave, would tell us exactly what happened with this young man tonight?"

The story Neave told was almost word for word what he'd told Elcarth.

The Lord was looking most uncomfortable, "What were you doing there in the first place?" he demanded, seemingly looking for a way to blame Neave for something.

"I was coming back from Bardic where I'd been visiting a friend." Neave replied.

There was another knock at the door. Kyril dispelled the Truth Spell as Elcarth called "Come in"

Housekeeper Gaytha stood there looking angry enough to spit nails, "Good, Kyril, you're here. I've just come back from putting that poor girl to bed. I think you need to talk to Selenay about the liberties some of those young courtiers are taking with the servant girls."

Kyril turned to the Lord, "It appears sir, that we need not trouble the Dean any further. Perhaps we should move this discussion to my office?" he turned to Housekeeper, "Will you come with us?"

The three of them swept out.

Neave sagged where he stood, his knees were shaking now that he was no longer under Kyril and the Lord's eye, "I'll leave you to your rest, Dean." he said, turning to Elcarth.

Elcarth was shaking his head with a half smile, "No, you don't. Sit." he poured a second glass of wine and handed it to Neave who took it with a shaking hand.

Neave sat. Leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

"You all right?" asked Elcarth solicitously.

Neave opened his eyes and smiled weakly, nodded, "I think I'll live. I'm sorry I had to disturb you."

"Occupational hazard, I'm afraid." Elcarth seated himself comfortably, "You may have made an enemy, you know."

Neave sighed, "I can't say I particularly care. And I don't think I had a choice."

"No, there really was no choice for a Herald." Elcarth agreed, "I'm just glad that you didn't actually injure the young 'gentleman'"

"I nearly did break his arm, you know. Kyldathar stopped me." Neave confessed.

Elcarth smiled, "I don't think you would have listened to her if you really had been intent on doing him injury. I must say, you handled that well. I think that volunteering to be Truth Spelled right off saved us several tiresome hours."

"That's what I hoped." Neave found that even with the wine, he was still vibrating with tension, "I had planned on a quiet evening."

**

_"Neave! What have they done?" Mara was saying. He couldn't breathe. When he tried, he tasted blood_ _in the back of his throat. He heard Mara arguing with Garek again, "If he dies, the law keepers would much rather blame you than Prince Ancar." _

_She came back, placed her hands on his side and muttered something in a strange language. The blood taste subsided. He drew a careful breath. "I wasn't sure I had that in me." said Mara wearily._

:Neave. Wake up: called Kyldathar

Neave was shaking. He hadn't had that particular dream in a very long time. It seemed that his encounter tonight had upset him more than he thought. Cursing, he pulled his bed roll out from under his bed. Cold or not, he knew he wasn't likely to sleep at all if he stayed here.

**

Neave looked at himself in the glass with a certain level of astonishment. Somehow, he hadn't been sure he'd ever earn his Whites.

"Hey there, handsome." called Christa through the open door, "You all packed?"

Neave turned to her with a smile. "I think so."

She came in, gave him a hug, "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too."


	11. Chapter 11

Spring was cold and rainy. It added to Neave's depression and the sense of unease that had dogged him since Christa's death. His own internship had been relatively uneventful other than a series of raids near the southern border. The weather had started to turn though, when he and his counselor finally returned home to Haven.

The word was, when Neave and Coroc had met their replacement circuit Herald, the whole Palace was in upheaval. Apparently some foreign prince had made overtures towards a state marriage with Elspeth, the Heir. Since when she had started her training as a Herald when he had been in his last year, Neave had spoken with Elspeth very seldom. He had never had much interest in the Court politics, so he hadn't really paid a lot of attention to that news.

He had been much more interested in the account of what had happened to Christa. The Herald had filled in the missing pieces to what Neave and Coroc had both sensed the night it had happened. Christa had died in a fire set by raiders. She had been trying to rescue a group of children trapped in the blaze. The children had been saved, but Christa had been caught in the building's collapse, as had her Companion and Christa's counselor, Destria. Destria was recovering at the Healer's Collegium, but she was terribly injured. Neave promised himself he'd go and see her as soon as the Healers would allow her visitors.

The afternoon they checked in was fine and sunny for once. However, he still felt uneasy. Neave wondered if it was missing Christa or missing the road. One of the things that he had discovered on his internship was how very happy he was on the road. His counselor, Coroc had commented, more than once, that Neave should put in to be a courier. Kyldathar was fast and Neave was never more content than when they were in motion. He had an appointment to meet with Elcarth and Kyril the next morning, but he didn't expect any surprises. Coroc had been straightforward in his evaluations and Neave was given to understand that he had passed his internship by a fair margin.

For now though, Neave and Kyldathar were assigned to the Collegium. Partly so they could rest and recover from their twelve month circuit and partly so that Elcarth and Kyril could review where best to assign him next. Earlier in the spring, Elcarth had written to ask him if he would be willing to help teach language classes while he was at Haven. It was fairly traditional that each Herald take a turn at teaching to find out which of them were talented at it.

Neave's first night back was spent in the company of his recently-returned year mate Davan, Skif and some very good wine.

They were had finished their third bottle and were opening the fourth when their talk turned from stories of Neave and Davan's internships to catch up with what was happening around the Collegium. Skif's Companion had recently dropped a foal, so he had been Haven bound for some time. Because of this, Skif was an excellent source for recent gossip.

This spring had been hard on everyone's tempers, it seemed. The raiders who had killed Christa were not the only source of trouble on the borders. Council and Court were more than ordinarily quarrelsome, and even the Heraldic Circle was suffering from the tension. Most unusually, Kris and Dirk had had a rather public argument involving Talia somehow. Skif's telling was a little muddled with the wine.

Neave hadn't spoken to either Dirk or Kris since he'd been Chosen. He had nodded to one or the other of them in passing, but unless a trainee was in one of their classes, trainees didn't tend to see them.

"You know, Christa worshiped Dirk," Neave surprised himself by revealing,

"I didn't know that." Davan said, peering at Neave with wine-sodden eyes.

"Mm, yes" replied Neave taking another long drink, "Kept after him to teach her how to Fetch bigger things. Living things, even. She was always disappointed that he only ever saw her as a student." he smiled lopsidedly, remembering some conversations he and Christa had had, "I think she was hoping to change that when she got back."

"Dirk is more than usually dense about women." said Skif, "He's been acting like a complete fool since..." Skif stopped and blushed as if he realized he was saying too much.

Davan shook his head, not noticing Skif's unfinished thought, "Damn shame about Christa." he said mournfully. He put his head down and started to snore.

Skif and Neave looked at him, surprised. "I think we better leave him where he is, for a bit." said Skif, after shaking Davan to no effect. He looked back at Neave, "He's right though, it is a damned shame." his eyes were wet and bright in the firelight.

Neave sighed, "Yes." he brushed his wet cheek. They both silently drank to Christa's memory.

"So," Neave said after a few minutes, trying to shake off his sorrow, "What's the latest on the argument then?"

"I'm pretty sure they made up last night." replied Skif, "Dirk went and caught himself some fever and just about passed out in the common room. Kris was right there taking him to the Healers. Wouldn't leave until he was sure Dirk would be all right. And I think Kris and Talia must have made up too, because Selenay sent them to Hardorn together this morning, to check out this Prince Ancar."

"Sorry?" said Neave sharply, "What do you mean?" Neave had never expected to hear _that_ name again--at least not in a way that pertained to him, the Heralds, or Valdemar. He'd known for years that Prince Ancar was the Heir Apparent to the Hardornen throne, but he thought of himself as Valdemaran and didn't give a thought to it anymore.

"Thought you would have heard," said Skif "This is the Prince whose suit the Council has been so keen to consider for Elspeth."

"I'd heard something about it, but I didn't follow it." said Neave, feeling himself grow sober.

"Well, the Council feels it would be a valuable alliance and Hardorn's been having more trouble with Karse than they used to. Selenay doesn't want Elspeth forced into a state marriage, but it would make a lot of sense." Skif shrugged "Poor Elspeth is in a bit of turmoil about it. Seems that she and Talia argued last night, too. She was in a flood of tears when I saw her earlier--Elspeth I mean. She wouldn't tell me what they'd argued about. I told her that it'd be fine when Talia gets back. They're both just under a lot of pressure. I wouldn't have either Talia's or Elspeth's places for anything."

"So in a week's time," continued Skif, "Selenay is going to make a state visit to Alessander. Just about every Herald in residence is going. We're even taking Cymry's foal, which is wonderful. I am damned tired of cooling my heels here. I expect Elcarth and Kyril will give you the option of going or not, since you just got back."

Neave nodded absently. He was cold inside. He thought of telling Skif some of the things he knew about this Ancar, but wondered if the tale would sound too strange, too much of a fever dream. He remembered the rumors that had flown around the town when he was a boy, but they had been too outlandish to be credited until His Lordship had come with his retinue.

But surely, that sort of thing wasn't still going on, was it?

Well, certainly if Talia had gone, they were sure to learn if Ancar was as Neave remembered him.

It wasn't too long afterwards when Skif and Neave dragged Davan back to his room. Skif was weaving a bit as he headed down the corridor. Neave sought his own bed.

For once he was too tired to dream.

In the morning, he presented himself at Elcarth's office to meet with him and Kyril. He was a little hung over, but if they noticed they didn't say anything. They had been pleased with Coroc's report. Neave gave them his own.

"Well," said Elcarth, "It seems that you just came back in time to accompany the Queen to Hardorn, if you're willing. We won't require it, since you're so recently in from the field."

"I'd like to go." said Neave, he'd been considering this all morning.

Elcarth smiled and Kyril nodded, "See Housekeeper about putting a rush on some new uniforms." said Elcarth.

Neave took his leave of them. He considered perhaps approaching Elcarth with some of what he knew, but again, how much of what he remembered was true? Some of it seemed so strange--chances were that half of it _was_ the product of a fever dream anyway. And a highborn taking out some of his ill feeling on a lowborn brat wasn't unknown, even in Valdemar. The biggest difference here was the Heralds and the fact that Selenay would hear about such crimes through them.

Besides, wasn't that why Selenay was making this visit? To avoid having Elspeth take a husband sight unseen?

At least this is what Neave told himself, but the scars on his back itched and prickled.


	12. Chapter 12

The day before Selenay and her escorts left, Neave heard that Dirk had demanded that the Healers allow him to go as well. Dirk still looked pretty bad, but Skif had promised the Healers he'd keep an eye on him. Neave didn't envy Skif that task. The Healers worried that Dirk might have a relapse if he overexerted himself or got caught in any bad weather. Skif had received stern instructions from them to keep Dirk out of trouble.

As it happened, they needn't have worried quite so much, the journey to the border was an easy one. The weather was finally cooperating, remaining sunny and warm. They were held to the pace of the baggage animals, so the Companions were treating it as something of a holiday. The only ones who seemed to have anything to complain about were the Courtiers who had decided to make the journey. Most of the Courtiers who had come were part of the households of Council members who were accompanying Selenay. Neave was entertained by the sheer amount of stuff they seemed to think necessary to pack and their dismay at the slightest inconveniences.

Neave still couldn't shake his uneasiness. In fact it only grew as he got closer to the border. By the time they called a halt at the border itself, he was downright anxious. As he was rubbing down Kydathar, he wondered if it was merely that he was returning to Hardorn. He had never considered going back for any reason.

Unbidden, he thought of Mara. Spring always made him think of Mara. He wondered again who she really was. Since he'd been out on circuit, he had the chance to hear a lot of different accents, which added to his curiosity. He'd been able to place Mara's (and the accent in which he spoke Valdemaran) as coming from Haven, probably from a well off family. She had always acted like someone used to giving orders, too. It was odd for someone like her to end up where he'd met her.

He remembered her telling him that she'd run away from a bad husband, though. She'd also once told him, rather bitterly, that the only difference between her and a high born lady was the number of her customers. Possibly, she was speaking more literally than he had credited, at the time. Perhaps one day, he would look through the records and see if any high born wives were recorded to have gone missing suddenly.

It occurred to him, that this was part of his unease. This business of alliance marriages seemed little different, to him, than the way a poor man might sell his daughter to pay a debt. Save for Selenay's insistence on meeting the Prince herself, the Council would have married off Elspeth will-she-nil-she.

A cold chill went down his back, like someone walking over his grave. An unwanted image of Elspeth, wearing the expression that Kira's face held when she walked out of the back door of the brothel to hang herself, appeared in his mind's eye. He pressed his face into Kyldathar's shoulder.

:Chosen?: Kyldathar sounded concerned.

Neave took a long breath to calm his racing heart, :Just...bad memories, and wild imaginings, I think.: His palms were sweating now, he wiped them on the towel he was using on Kyldathar.

:I'm not so sure.: Kyldathar said slowly, :I feel like something's...happened."

Neave looked around, others were continuing to pitch tents and care for Companions. No one seemed to share their anxiety, :Love, I think its just me.: he told her, :We knew it might be hard to come back here. :

Kydathar touched her nose to his cheek, :Can I do anything?:

Neave's eyes prickled with tears, :Just be with me.: He blinked a few times to clear his eyes, gave her a tremulous smile, :It's just something I need to get through.: He went back to grooming her, finding comfort in the prosaic task.

Much of the way from Haven, Neave had found himself riding with Alberich and the Herald Chronicler, Myste. Alberich seemed to welcome his company as a friend now that Neave was no longer his student, possibly because they habitually spoke in Karsite. Neave didn't know Myste well, although she did help tutor some of the advanced language classes. She was fascinating to talk to. She also generally spoke with Alberich in Karsite.

After camp was pitched and he'd collected some dinner from the cook tent, he wandered over to the tent Alberich shared with Myste. Myste was there alone, making the best of the fading afternoon sunlight to write. She looked up, smiled and indicated that he should sit, then went back to her writing. The camp sounds were slowing in tempo as people gathered around fires to talk and eat. Neave ate in silence, knowing that Myste wasn't being rude, it was just that she needed to finish before it got so dark she couldn't see. There was lamplight aplenty at the Palace, but out here she needed more than a few candles could provide. He also found that he liked Myste's company because she didn't see the need to fill every silence with chatter.

Neave heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Alberich coming over with Myste's dinner and his own. Alberich set the tray down by the fire, smiled at Neave who returned it.

Neave and Alberich talked about inconsequentials while they ate. Was it Neave's imagination or did Alberich look worried about something? Myste finally gave up and put her writing things away, coming to sit comfortably next to Alberich. It was amusing to see the two of them together--the bespectacled scholar next to the scarred armsmaster.

The next day passed without the expected contact from either Kris or Talia. One of them was supposed to rendezvous with Selenay's honor guard, here. When the third day arrived with no word, the order came down to move the camp to a more defensible place.

When he had finished his own packing, Neave volunteered to help Myste strike her tent and pack up. Alberich was conferring with the Queen and Kyril.

"Neave?" said Myste as she carefully wrapped up her pens and ink, putting them in her travel desk, "Did you ever hear anything about this Prince Ancar when you were living in Hardorn?"

He took a long moment closing up the bag he had filled with bedding, unsure how to answer, "Rumors." he said, swallowed, then went on, "And...and maybe more." the last was almost a whisper, his chest was so tight.

She didn't ask him anything else while they packed. It was only later, when they had pitched their camp and a much subdued supper was being served did Myste seek him out. He was sitting with his Companion, using a piece of charcoal from the fire to sketch a small flower. He found that drawing eased his nerves and was never without a sheaf of paper.

She sat down on the ground across the fire from him. After a moment she said, without preamble, "What rumors did you hear?"

He sighed, looked up from his drawing. The sun was a hand over the horizon and threw half of her face into shadow. He moved to a fresh spot on the paper and sketched the curve of Myste's jaw. She didn't repeat herself or seem at all impatient, "They were a little wild. Said he was dabbling in dark magic." Neave said finally, he looked at her again, trying to get the shape of her chin.

"People say the same of Heralds." Myste said.

Neave shook his head, "I never heard that much about Herald's magic...Well, except from the Karsites. Mostly Herald's magic was just a tale to scare children. And sometimes you'd hear the stories about the ghost horses. But Ancar's mages scared people in a different way...I was never sure why." It was easier to talk about this if he kept drawing.

"You said you might know more than rumors?"

Neave felt Kyldathar stiffen behind him. He scooted back more comfortably against her, adjusted the slate he was using to back the paper on his lap. The reflection of the light off Myste's spectacles was difficult to render with charcoal, "Not too long before Kyldathar came for me, a highborn came to the town. I heard people refer to him as Prince Ancar." Neave stopped, "I-I'm not sure what you may have heard about me..."

Myste shook her head "I know you come from Hardorn..." she didn't seem to understand why he was asking.

He looked back to his drawing, tracing the curl of hair that blew against her temple, "I was raised in a brothel. My mother died when I was young. I had to earn my keep." he said in a voice that didn't seem to be his, "Mostly it was serving in the taproom. The usual things you'd expect in an inn. Sometimes it was...other things."

Myste's face was perfectly still, Neave thought she was beautiful in a strange sort of way. One of his favorite things about drawing was the ability to find the beauty hidden in people's faces. He began to fill in the shadows of her hair, "The Prince was in town a few days. After the first night he seemed to get bored with the girls from Gareck's. They went after a few of the town girls. I'm not sure what they did to them. Mara told me to make myself scarce the first night they got there--she got herself beat up by one of them, but they used a knife on one of the Karsite girls." Neave looked up, trying to gauge her reaction. He wasn't sure how to go on, these were things he had never spoken aloud. He wasn't even sure how much of it had actually happened.

Myste leaned forward, "I know this is difficult, but I've got a bad feeling that it may be important. A lot of the Foreseers are feeling that something is wrong, but no one can See what. We need every scrap of information." There was nothing of horror or disgust in her manner.

Neave nodded, bent back to his drawing, "They caught me one night. I'm not sure how--I don't remember parts of it really well. But...well...I just thought the one who had me was one of those who liked hurting people." He focused on drawing the lines of Myste's throat, "I'd had that happen before...I'd learned to do something like a trance. Like I wasn't really there anymore."

Myste nodded understanding.

"That seemed to upset him...like he knew what I was doing. He...the rest of them were downstairs. They'd sent Garek and most of the rest away and they had a girl...oh..." Neave hadn't thought of that scene in so long. He suddenly put together that the girl had been Kira.

"Neave?" said Myste when he stopped, staring into space.

Neave shook himself a little. He put aside his drawing and stood up. Kyldathar scrambled up to stand beside him. He found he couldn't keep looking at Myste. "I'm not sure what they were up to. There was a man with them. He was the one everyone was calling a mage. Everyone except His Lordship was afraid of him. He said he could use us to raise power."

"Raise power?" repeated Myste sounding puzzled, "What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure. I think thats what he said. Maybe I heard wrong, I don't know." Neave shrugged, trying not to feel the panic. His heart was racing and he wound one hand in Kyldathars mane. "Then they tied me up--I'm not sure what they were doing to the girl. She just kept screaming. In some ways that was worse than when he'd been hurting me." he stopped to take a breath. He felt like he was sparring with Alberich rather than merely talking with Myste, "I couldn't get away from it. Then, when she finally did stop, they started on me. It was different from what I expected. They became rather creative."

"What..?"

Neave untucked his shirt from his breeches, pulling up the back so Myste could see the scars. He didn't look at her as he let his shirt fall again, "And then the really horrible part happened. Or maybe it was all in my head. I was half mad with the pain, I think." he was talking faster now, knowing if he stopped, he'd never ever have the guts to talk about this part, "He was singing or maybe chanting something and...and...it was like he was pulling my soul out. I don't know how else to describe it. I thought I was dead and in Hell. I heard screaming again and I couldn't tell if it was mine or not. I think I passed out. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor. They were talking about needing to pay Garek off because they'd done me in. His Lordship and the other man were gone. So was the girl." Neave wiped his hands on his breeches, finally turned to face Myste.

She hadn't moved from her seat on the ground, nor changed her quiet expression. "So, what happened then?" she asked in that same calm tone she'd used throughout.

"One of them kicked me. I really thought I was dead then. I couldn't breathe and it was like I was smothering. I couldn't move either. After a while, Mara came in. Garek wanted to throw me out. She argued with him--told him she'd tell the law keepers he'd done it." Neave resumed his seat by the fire. The sun had almost set now, "She was gone for a little while, then she came back with some herbs from the midwife. She--this is the other really odd part--she was chanting something too. It was as if whatever they'd taken from me, she was putting back. Not all of it, but enough so that I stopped feeling like I was going to die. Then she did something to my ribs." he paused, trying to find words for what he'd never been able to articulate before, "She wasn't a healer, but she _said _something and my ribs healed. Afterwards, she said they were just cracked, but I know what I felt. Before she fixed it I couldn't breathe at all and my lungs were filling up with blood. Then she slept in the kitchen with me for two days, Cook said. I was better though." He closed his eyes, "The girl they had, her father sold her to Garek a week later. I was better off than her. She killed herself a week after that. I found her in the stable."

"Thank you for telling me this." Myste said gravely.

Neave opened his eyes, and attempted to smile, "I'm not sure how much help my sad story is."

Myste returned the attempted smile gently, "It's more than I knew a candlemark ago. Some of the Foresights people are getting are very strange." she hesitated, "I know what you've told me is very personal, but if it should become necessary...can I tell others?"

Neave nodded gravely, he knew that Myste was not given to gossip. If she felt someone needed to know, then it was likely that they did. She reached forward and clasped his hand, then she stood. He did too. "I've volunteered for night watch," said Neave, "I should get my coat and see where they want me."

Myste nodded, "If you feel like you need talk later..."

Neave managed a real smile this time, "I know where I can find you."

:When did you volunteer for night watch?: asked Kyldathar as they made their way to the Lord Marshal's tent.

:As soon as we get there.: replied Neave, :Do you think I could sleep tonight?:


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N There's some directly quoted dialog from _Arrows of the Queen_, in this chapter. Just so you know.**

Telling Myste about what he knew about Ancar seemed to open a box in his head. He'd never been able to remember most of the incident before. He found himself sorting through a pile of images and feelings he'd only ever glimpsed in dreams. Other horrors from his childhood he had spoken of, to Kyldathar, to Ylsa, to Elcarth and once in a great while (usually fueled by one too many glasses of wine) to a friend like Skif or Christa. But this...never

They'd caught him asleep that night--he'd fallen asleep by the kitchen fire when he thought they were gone. He'd woken up to the man pawing him.

He remembered, clearly now, how Kira screamed in the tap room. The empty eyes she had when she came to Garek's. It was as if she were already dead. She never ate a scrap of food and seemed indifferent to cold or the beatings Garek threatened her with. At the time, he couldn't bear to connect the screaming girl with Kira. It would have made what had happened too real.

As a Herald, he had seen the results of rape. Raiders commonly used it as a tactic to demoralize border settlements. And he'd had to judge a court case himself. As bad as that was though, there was something even worse in what he'd seen in Kira's eyes. Worse than merely broken, worse than madness.

The same thing had happened to him. So why was he different? Why was he alive? But, he remembered Mara looking grey and exhausted by the kitchen cook fire, muttering and throwing herbs into the fire. It reminded him of the way Heralds invoked a Truth Spell--a little muttered rhyme and then something happened. Then it was as if something of _her _had flowed into him.

"Neave," she'd said, "You have to trust me. They drained you down to nothing...I can give you something, but you have to let me."

He remembered hearing her cry and curse at Garek, at the Prince, at the general injustice of the world. And he remembered her telling him stories.

Kyldathar was keeping very quiet. He hadn't quite blocked her out, but she understood he wanted a little privacy to think. He knew she knew about this from the way she watched his dreams, but he never spoke to her of it.

He was glad he'd volunteered for night watch duty, because he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep at night right now. At least this way, no one thought it strange that he didn't fall into his bedroll until dawn.

The fourth day and the fifth were of tense watchfulness. Neave woke after only a couple candlemarks of sleep both days. He noticed that the Companions had, ominously, taken up their own watch of the perimeter. Voices were subdued and conversation was difficult. People tried to occupy themselves, but by the sixth day, most had given up even a pretense of it.

Neave awoke on the sixth day before the noon meal, from a sleep taken up with Mara's voice. He and Kyldathar paced restlessly around the perimeter again, following the same circuit they'd followed in the night,

:Kyldathar?: Neave asked suddenly, :Why did you Choose me?: he'd asked her this before, but never gotten a satisfactory answer.

Kyldathar understood that he was not going to accept the answers she'd given in the past, :I'm not sure how it happens,: she said slowly, :Like the birds know its time to move south for winter, I guess. We just suddenly _know _we have to go. And what direction. And..and if our Chosen is in danger, we know that too. Sometimes...rarely...Companions don't get there in time...usually they don't return.:

Neave waited, she still hadn't answered his question.

:It's magic that goes right back to the Founding, we think. We just _know_.: she looked at him sideways, if she'd been human, she would have sighed, :I heard calling. I hauled tail for days. When we go out to Choose, we don't stop for anything. Its like a hunger that blocks out everything else. I thought I was heading for the border, not clear across it. And then I had to slow down and hide--take back ways. I didn't want to have to deal with everyone who saw me putting me in their stable. It wouldn't have been fair to have to keep leaving holes in them. And then I found you. It was awful, not being able to take you away right then. The hardest thing I've ever done was leave you there once I'd found you.: She shuddered.

:So, what then?:

:Felara answered my call: she replied quietly, :I knew I needed a senior Herald. I was a little beside myself, I'm afraid.: he got the sense that she was a bit embarrassed, :Felara and Ahrodie were very kind though, they stood with me at the border until Ylsa came back with you.: she nuzzled his cheek, :Ylsa only let Tantris come with his Kris because Kris was playing the part of a noble. She decided to go in disguise because it was so close to Karse and I was afraid that the Karse woman would...: she stopped as though she couldn't go on.

So it was after His Lordship's man had gotten through with Neave that Kyldathar had taken it into her head to Choose.

:Why is it important, Chosen?: she asked a little plaintively.

:I'm just trying to make sense of things. What they did to me wasn't a-- normal-- sort of evil. But, being Chosen isn't a normal sort of good, either.: There was a piece of the puzzle just outside of Neave's reach, he felt. Something he couldn't quite articulate.

The next moment it was driven right out of his head. Kyldathar stood rock still, :One of the lookouts just reported a Companion coming.: she said.

Every Companion must have informed their Herald. The whole camp roused. Neave found himself not far from Selenay and Kyril. Alberich stood on Selenay's other side along with Myste and Keren. Dirk, Teren, Skif and Elspeth stood a few feet away. They all waited silently in the hot sun.

A Herald ran up, whispered in Selenay's ear. Neave was behind her, so he couldn't see her face, but Kyril moved restlessly from foot to foot. Myste's hand reached out and clasped Alberich's just for a moment. Neave thought he heard Keren gasp.

Then a Companion came into view. Alone.

It was Rolan. There was no mistaking him, even in the terrible state he was in.

He looked like a ghost horse from Neave's childhood tales, gaunt and dusty. He staggered up to the Queen and dropped a bundle at her feet. He was exhausted and in pain. Keren gave a cry of dismay, threw her cloak over him, leading him to where she could tend him. Neave knew that if she could have carried him, she would have.

Selenay picked up the bundle. Two arrows fell out at her feet--one headless and one broken.

The crowd of Heralds gasped. Neave felt as though he'd been plunged in cold water.

"NO!"

Neave looked in the direction of the cry. Skif and Teren grabbed Dirk before he could run for Ahrodie. "Damn you, let me go!" he yelled at Skif. "I've got to go to her-got to help her!"

Ahrodie stood ready to bolt, caught in her Chosen's need. His emotions could overwhelm her good sense :Kyldathar!: called Neave :Don't let her...:

:We know.: Kyldathar and several other Companions moved in around Ahrodie, keeping her from helping her Chosen act on his mad impulse.

"Dirk, man, you don't even know if--if she's still alive!" cried Teren fighting to hold onto Dirk.

"She's _got_ to be. I'd know if she weren't. She's _got _to be!" he kept fighting them, furiously.

The rest of the crowd was silent as Kyril picked up the arrows. In a low tone, that nonetheless carried to every corner, he said "The headless arrow is Herald Kris. The broken is Herald Talia."

"You see? I was right! Let me _go_!" Dirk cried in anguish.

Skif was weeping as he grabbed Dirks chin, "_Think _man! That was the broken arrow she sent. She was as good as dead when she sent it and dammit, she knew it. There's no hope of saving her, but she gave us the warning to save ouselves. Do you want to kill yourself too, and make us mourn three of you?"

"Oh, _gods_!" cried Dirk, sagging to the ground, his shoulders shaking as he wept.

Selenay began to give orders. Neave returned his attention to her, feeling that he hated to intrude on Dirk's grief.

"Who's here with speed?" she was asking Kyril.

Kyril looked around, saw Neave, nodded. Looked around some more, mentally tallying those with speed, those with endurance. Kyril gave Neave a little beckoning jerk of the head as he and Selenay began to head to Selenay's tent.

Neave spared another glance for Dirk and Ahrodie. The other Companions had allowed Ahrodie to get close to her Chosen now. Skif and Teren stood with them. He moved off towards Selenay's tent, knowing that he'd be needed to carry messages as soon as they had them.

Kyril and Selenay conferred with those Heralds who had experience in war. Every so often, a Herald was handed a set of orders with the royal seal. The gathered Heralds were perched on every available surface. After a while, Neave sat gingerly on the end of Selenay's bed. The Guard officers and the Guard Healer and members of the Council who had accompanied Selenay came in. They stood, leaning over the table looking at maps and discussing tactics.

Elspeth was there for a little while, but she didn't join the people standing around the maps. Instead she sat in the corner, weeping quietly. The next time Neave looked for her, she was gone, but Skif had come in. For a moment he met Neave's gaze--Skif's eyes had turned murderous. Neave nodded slightly, in understanding.

Neave reached for Kyldathar, but she wasn't paying attention to him. He thought that perhaps the Companions were making their own preparations, decided to let her be until she was needed.

The candles in the tent had burnt down somewhat when there was a cry of horror outside. They all jumped and looked to the tentflap. Elspeth came in white as a sheet and trembling with fatigue. Dirk followed her with a bundle in his arms. Elspeth pushed Neave and the other Heralds on Selenay's bed out of the way. When they all realized what it was that Dirk carried, the cry was repeated in the tent.

Very gently, Dirk lay Talia's bloodstained body down on Selenay's bed. Neave wasn't even sure that she still breathed, but she bled sluggishly from innumerable wounds. Dirk grabbed Healer Myrim's shoulder and pulled her to Talia's side. Then he stood very carefully and passed out like a felled tree.

From where he stood, Neave couldn't move in the flurry of activity that followed. He stood at the end of the bed trying to keep out of the way as six Heralds moved to pick up Dirk. He therefore was witness to the wreck that was Talia. Her clothing was in tatters and she was bootless, her feet misshappen. There was a wound in her chest that looked like a hand print had been branded there and another deeply infected wound on the other shoulder. From where he stood he could smell the infection. Old blood stained the crotch and legs of her breeches in such a way that Neave understood at least some of what had happened immediately. Her hands looked as though someone had tried to strip the skin from them and there didn't seem an inch of her, below the chin, that wasn't mutilated in some way.

"Herald!?" demanded Myrim, "Can you aid Healers?"

Neave started out of his morbid staring and focused on her, "Yes, ma'am." he said.

She grasped his hand then and he dropped his shields, feeling his energy drawn into Myrim's clean, green core. He felt Myrim snatch something, like a moth out of the air. He grew dizzy, but then Kyldathar was back, supporting him.

After a few moments, Myrim let go. Other healers had arrived. They made room for Neave to get out from the niche he'd been caught in. Selenay was looking around, "Where's Elspeth?" she asked.

"Here she is." called Skif. Elspeth had collapsed in the corner.

Kyril grabbed Neaves arm, "We need more Healers, I think," he said urgently pushing a scroll into Neave's hand, "How fast can Kyldathar make Haven and back?" Neave marveled at Kyril's coolness under pressure. Neave himself was just too astonished by the fact that Talia was here to even think beyond the next hearbeat, let alone to tally how many Healers they might need.

Neave asked her, "She says six-maybe five days, If we don't stop."

Kyril nodded, "Good lad, there's the list of who I want. I've sent to Elcarth to put whoever's there onto this, but there's too many of us _here. _If Talia doesn't need them, there will be others_" _he finished ominously.

Neave was in the saddle for over a candlemark before he realized that Kyril was expecting battle.


	14. Chapter 14

In five days time, Neave reached the border again, with a Healer and as many supplies as Kyldathar could carry. He had stayed at Haven long enough to sleep for a few candlemarks in the hallway of the Healer's Collegium while the Healer he was ferrying packed. Every Herald that could be spared was carrying a Healer or someone else who was needed at the border. Elcarth was orchestrating logistics from the Palace side as Kyril was from Selenay's encampment.

The encampment bristled with Guard units coming in. The Healers and the Councilors had withdrawn to the local Lord's hold. Within half a candlmark of reporting in, he collapsed into his bedroll with his head on Kyldathar's flank, within the wall of the keep. He and Kyldathar were ordered to get at least eight candlemarks sleep and report back after they'd eaten. Chances were, they'd be needed for something.

When he finally crawled out of his exhausted sleep, it was dawn. Kyldathar, stirred and stood. Others were scattered about the lawns--with the weather fine, it made no sense to do more than pull out a bedroll. Neave went to find Kyldathar her breakfast in the stable. With five days of almost continuous running, she was starving. She'd made the round trip faster than most, Neave thought proudly. She'd outpaced many of her peers.

:It helps that you're so thin.: She replied to his thoughts, teasingly. :And the Healer we were bringing was just a slip of a girl: She didn't look up from her grain bucket.

Neave took himself to the cook tent to find his own breakfast. Even with the early hour, people were already moving about. Neave collected some food for himself. Keren was there, eating on her feet. She beckoned him over, "You're back already? Kyldathar must have all but flown." she said approvingly.

He smiled at the compliment, then sobered, "How's Talia?" he knew that Talia was as close to Keren as he'd been to Ylsa.

Keren frowned, shook her head, "She's still not awake...the Healers don't know why."

"I left right when Dirk brought her into Selenay's tent," Neave said quietly, "There's some pretty mad stories going around. How did she get here?"

"The stories aren't mad, youngling." Keren sighed, "Dirk Fetched her. Damn near killed himself doing it. He was out, himself, for two days. He's still up with the Healers."

"Gods, thats amazing." said Neave.

Keren nodded, "We keep hoping she'll wake up and tell us what happened, but..." her voice trailed off. She brushed her cheek with the heel of her hand, "We're all waiting for the ax to fall now."

Neave presented himself to Kyril once he'd finished eating. Kyril ordered him to remain at the Keep for the next several days. The plan was that, should the border become too dangerous for the Councilors and the Heir, a group of Heralds were to escape with them and head for the Forest of Sorrows. Since there were no Hardornen troops on their doorstep yet, Heralds who needed to rest from relay work were being assigned to this for a couple of days, as they came in.

Neave made himself busy helping the Healers for the next two days. Although Dirk and Talia were there only patients now, everyone expected more. The Keep's Lord had moved his own household up to Haven, leaving them the whole place to be used as they saw fit.

The Keep's infirmary was judged to be too small for any but the worst of the expected wounded. Neave helped them set up several wards, organizing the placement of the varying casualties that were expected, including a space in the stone Chapel where the dead could be kept for burying. Neave hoped that it would prove to be a much too large space for that purpose.

He had never spent that much time with Healers when he wasn't helping with (or being) a patient. It was an instructive assignment. Off-duty Healers were very different from their public personas. At one point he sat in on a lecture on battlefield Healing, even the senior Healers referred to the possible casualties with irreverent labels.

"And whatever you do," remarked one pretty young woman, referring to the distance a front line Healer wanted to keep from the fighting."Don't go past the first dead Herald."

There was a little silence, she'd apparently forgotten Neave was there. She blushed. Neave winked at her and grinned, wishing he was better at saying clever things. He understood that the grim jokes made it all easier to bear.

Kyldathar slept solidly for a day and a half. The tension grew in the keep, feeling like the oppression of a gathering storm.

In the afternoon of the third day, a very small page ran up to him, "Herald?" the boy was panting a little as he said it, "Healer Devan needs someone to find Herald Alberich, Herald Kyril and the Seneschal".

Neave's Mindspeaking wasn't strong but it was certainly strong enough to reach Kyril. "Where does he need them?", knowing what the answer was likely to be.

"Herald Talia's room, Milord Herald"

Neave reached for Kyril and passed on the message. An icy foreboding gripped his heart that was echoed down from Kyril's mind. Kyril replied that he was with the Seneschal and he would inform Alberich.

:Is she dying, do you think?: Neave asked his Companion.

:I don't know: Kyldathar replied pensively, :I know something changed...but I'm not sure what:

It was two candlemarks later, Kyril Mindtouched Neave, rather shakily asking where the Healers wanted the dead to be taken until they could be disposed of.

Neave started, his heart contracting in his chest. :The Chapel: he replied, :Do you need help?: He had no sense that the Death Bell was ringing, but they'd not had any when Kris had died. Something had happened to prevent them from knowing--perhaps that was why he hadn't Felt it ring for Talia?

:Yes.: replied Kyril, :Alberich's going to go find Selenay.: Confirming Neave's worst fears.

Neave raced down the corridor to Talia's room. Elspeth sat on a window seat, weeping hysterically on Healer Devan's shoulder. Kyril stood next to a body covered in a blanket. Kyril wasn't weeping, rather he was looking a little befuddled. As if he couldn't believe what had just happened. Neave didn't know what to say to anyone, instead he went to help Kyril move Talia's body.

Or at least, he had assumed it was Talia.

When he bent to take the head end of the body, he realized that this body was much too large to be Talia, "Wait...What?" he asked Kyril in startlement, "I thought Talia..."

"No...no...Talia's awake." said Kyril out loud, then continued in Mindspeech, :This is Lord Orthallen. He was a traitor. Elspeth...executed him.: They both glanced at Elspeth who wept still. :Selenay will make an announcement later.:

***

Late that night Alberich related to Myste all that the now conscious Talia had related to them. "Ancar grew tired of waiting to inherit the throne legitimately. He murdered his father and every noble with enough power to oppose him. He has his own army."

"Well, this is not much more than we guessed," sighed Myste, "What else?" she knew Alberich well enough to know that mere strength of arms would not have him looking this worried.

"She speaks of mages," Alberich said thoughtfully, "Old magic, like in tales. She said one of them blocked her Gift and they can do much more. One of them burned a brand on her skin with nothing but her bare hand." he shook his head.

Myste sat very still, "Alberich...how much do you know about Neave?"

Alberich had been pacing but turned to face her where she sat on her stool, "Why? Do you think he knows something about these mages?"

"I think...I think he might." She had told Alberich about asking Neave for information about rumors, but she hadn't as yet, told him the results of the conversation. Alberich turned to stride right out of the tent in search of Neave, but Myste grabbed his arm, "Wait a moment," she said, "Just let me tell you what I know first--it cost him a great deal to tell me what happened. I could see it. It may be that we can coax him to remember more, but not if you don't go carefully."

Alberich inclined his head and leaned up against the small table covered in maps to listen. As Herald-Chronicler, Myste's memory for conversation was extremely well developed and she repeated the conversation she'd had with Neave verbatim.

Alberich was quiet for long moments after she was done. He reached for Kantor, his Companion :Would you have Kyldathar ask Neave to come and meet with Myste and I?: Alberich hoped that since Neave had already confided in Myste once, that he would be willing to speak to her again. He knew the tale Ylsa had brought back, of course, but much of this was new. While they waited Alberich resumed his pacing.

Neave, came quickly enough that Alberich assumed they hadn't disturbed his sleep, "Kyldathar said you wanted me?" he said. He looked pale and resigned in the candlelight.

Myst had set some wine glasses on the table and was filling them. She handed a glass to Neave, "We wanted to ask you more about what you know of Ancar." she said bluntly. There was no time to be tactful. And really, how tactful could one be?

Neave nodded, closed his eyes momentarily. Myste assumed he was reaching for Kyldathar. He opened his eyes, sighed and took a long swallow from the glass Myste had handed him, "All right, if you think it's pertinent." he said softly.

Alberich leaned again on the table, Myste sat of the cot and beckoned Neave over to sit next to her.

"You heard that Herald Talia has awoken?" said Alberich, as he generally did, he spoke with Neave in Karsite. Neave nodded so Alberich continued, "She had tales of mages who shielded Ancar and kept us from knowing of Kris' death. We expect that Ancar will bring an army here within days. We need every bit of information you may have--anything that might help us understand these mages."

Neave looked at his wine glass rather than either of them, "I've been remembering more since the other night." his voice low, "I'm not sure, but I think...Do you remember how I told you that the one who first got hold of me seemed upset when I tranced out a little?"

"Yes." said Myste.

"I think my Gift was starting to wake up. I think the mage wanted people with latent Gifts." Neave's hands had started to shake, but his voice was steady, "He talked about 'raising power'. The more I think about it, the more it seems like he was doing something like what a Healer does when they borrow energy." Neave took another swallow of his wine, draining the glass. Myste took it and refilled it.

"Ylsa once told me that you were in shock when Kyldathar found you." said Alberich, "But she thought your injuries..."

"They were pretty bad. The more they hurt me, the more the mage seemed able to pull out of me." Neave was only just now realizing how much he'd blocked out, and how much what he'd assumed to be just dreams were real. "I think Ancar feared that what he was doing would get back to his father. The mage stopped whatever it was he was doing and Ancar told him to leave off before someone caused a scene."

"So, it seems these mages can draw power from pain." said Myste slowly, "I think I remember something of that from the Chronicles."

Neave nodded, looking at the floor, "And death." he looked up at Myste and Alberich for the first time, his eyes hollow. He finished the glass of wine in his hand again. Again, Myste refilled it.

"One of them said that if I was that close to dying, they shouldn't....shouldn't waste it." he was whispering now, "But Ancar said he didn't want to be around when I died...said it was too early to tip his hand. That's when he left. I think thats when I got kicked."

"Whatever they did, the only reason I didn't die was Mara. She went to the midwife who told her what to do, she said. I'm beginning to think..." Neave stopped wondering if Myste and Alberich would think him mad, "I'm beginning to think she was using power like they did--only she was using it like we use Gifts. Do you understand?"

"Wait...why would the midwife know what to do?" asked Alberich puzzled.

Myste's eyes had suddenly gone large, "Do you mean 'midwife' or do you mean 'witch'?" In Karsite, like in Valdemaran, they were two separate words. In Hardornen, the words were the same.

"I don't know." Neave said puzzled, "Mara spent a lot of time with her. I assumed she wanted to apprentice to another profession before she was to old to whore. And Mara had more knowledge in her head than anyone I ever met who wasn't a Herald"

Alberich and Myste stared at each other in rising confusion, "Could it be," said Myste quietly, "That old magic has been sitting on our doorstep for years and we never saw it because it's being practiced by old women?"

Alberich sighed and let that speculation go for the nonce, "I worry more about the mages we know about. Thank you, Neave. I may have to ask you to repeat some of this to Kyril."

Neave nodded, it seemed to get easier with each telling.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N Not really graphic, but possibly upsetting to the sensitive. Kept it short in light of this.**

Kyril did not want the story repeated just once, Kyril wanted to hear it about a dozen times. Neave might have resented it, but Kyril himself looked as though he hadn't slept since he'd heard about the mages from Talia.

Shortly after breakfast, Kyril had Mindspoken to Neave with a request to come to his tent. Myste was there as well.

After what had to be a candlemark of questioning, Kyril said, "I think we've gotten all we can this way. " He hesitated, then said, "Neave, if the situation did not seem so very grave, I wouldn't even consider asking you this, but...I have some experience with triggering lost memories. Given what you've said...it may well be that you have some other pieces of information, that you've blocked out."

Neave already felt like he'd been forced through a sieve. Myste bit her lip in consternation, "What does that involve?" he asked.

"It is essentially, a Mindspeaking technique. I would just clear any blocks you may have with those memories. I will warn you though, the mind tends to store things like this away, rather...untidily. It may be somewhat overwhelming. Once I clear any blocks, you may find yourself reliving those memories, rather than merely remembering." Kyril's eyes never left Neave's, "Given that your Gift is a projective one of both Mindspeech and a little Empathy, I should get the full scene. That way you won't have to tell the story again."

Neave nodded, "There's a lot to this that I'm not sure was real--some of it seems more like a fever dream--will you be able to tell?"

Kyril looked a little thoughtful, "Hm. I think I should be able to. " he paused, "I know it's a great deal to ask. I could check if there was a Mindhealer available..."

Neave cut him off, "I'd rather keep this among Heralds, if you please, sir. And Talia's in no fit state. I'm sure I can cope with whatever happens. When do you want to get started?"

Kyril smiled faintly for a moment, "Thank you. If you feel up to it, we can do this now."

Neave did _not _feel up to it, but he was not likely to feel better about it later, "What do you need me to do?" was all he said.

"I just need you to drop your shields. It may also be best if you sat down on the bed there. If you swoon, you won't have far to fall. Myste?" Kyril turned to her, "Can you keep a shield on us both?"

Myste nodded, moving her chair near to the bed. Neave sat down on the bed and Kyril pulled his chair opposite him. Neave reached for Kyldathar for a moment, :Be careful, love.: she said, as though he were starting on a journey. Perhaps she felt he was.

Neave closed his eyes and dropped into a light trance. Neave had a touch of Sight and Kyril appeared to his inner eye as a solid blue sillouette. Kyril reached out as Neave opened his shields. There was an almost physical sensation, like a cracking knuckle and then...

The room was dark except for the firelight in the hearth. Neave stood with his arm in the iron grip of a man who stood a head taller than himself. He heard a girl crying. In the dim light, he could see six, maybe eight, men.

"Found another one, Milord. He's got something there...the signs you told us to look for." The man who gripped Neave's arm said. Neave could see then that one of the men was sitting in a chair near the hearth with another man standing near him.

"So, you have your subjects." said the seated man, lazily to the man standing next to him, "Show me the wonders you claim."

"Of course, Your Highness." The other men in the room shrank back from this one almost as much as Neave did. This was the man the Prince's people called a mage. The mage threw back his cloak and snapped his fingers. Two others brought the weeping girl over and tied her roughly, face down, to the bench. A strange, small light, like a miniature sun suddenly flared and lit the room. The girl lifted her frightened face to look at Neave and then put it back down.

She whimpered softly, the sound making Neave's stomach hurt.

The mage nodded sharply at one of the men. Neave shut his eyes tightly, knowing he didn't want to see what was to happen. The girl began to scream. Neave tried to pull away from the man holding him, but the man was too strong.

Neave opened his eyes unwillingly. It was a vision from a nightmare. The man knelt behind the bound girl. He had her skirt up and she was screaming in pain, but that wasn't what was freezing the screams in Neave's throat before they could emerge.

The mage held his hands out in front of him. A weird red mist seemed to flow from the girl to the man's open palms. The Prince sat in his chair with his wine cup in his hand, watching as though they were entertainers performing at his Court. In the bright witchlight, his expression was one of bored indulgence.

"Yes, yes. Very amusing. What do you propose to do with the power you're collecting?" said the Prince, over the girl's cries.

"In good time." Said the mage, "I dare not attempt what I intend without an ample power store. It could get loose."

Several of the surrounding men looked at each other, some amused, some alarmed. One by one they took their turn with the girl. Neave wanted to vomit, but he'd not eaten that day, so there was nothing in his stomach to lose.

After what seemed a very long time, the girl stopped screaming. They cut the ropes that held her and dumped her limp body to the side.

Roughly one of the men tied Neave's wrists together. Hung him from the hook near the hearth. Apparently the Prince had different plans for him than the girl. For a bare moment Neave was grateful--beatings were not so bad.

And then they began.

Neave heard himself screaming uncontrollably and wondered why he couldn't black out. The pain was his whole world, blotting out everything else. And then, something seemed to be pulling at him, pulling his life out of him. Behind his closed eyes he could see the mage as a black and red blur, pulling that red mist out of him. He lost track of time, of everything but the pain.

Mercifully, at some point he did black out. Someone had dropped him onto the floor, where he lay dimly aware. "This one's done, Milord." a voice said.

"That's disappointing."

"Perhaps I could capture his death throes, Your Highness? It would be a shame to waste them."

"No, if we're still here when he dies, someone might make a tedious fuss back to My Father. It's too soon for that. I think you've demonstrated what I wanted to see." Neave heard the door open and close, the unnatural light left the room.

"I suppose we'd better pay his master off, to keep him quiet too. We can take the girl back to her father."

Neave felt a terrible blow to his side. Bones cracked and all the air seemed to be forced out of his chest. Neave could do nothing but lie still, half conscious, trying to suck air into his lungs. The taste of blood filled his mouth...

:Chosen?:

The voice was in Neave's head. He knew he knew that voice...but, likely he was mad as well as dying. His breath was coming in gasps and it hurt.

:CHOSEN!:

"Neave!" another voice, but outside of his head, "Neave, come out of it." he had the sense of someone shaking him. He wished they wouldn't do that.

He opened his eyes to a woman's face. She wore glasses and an expression of concern. "Who..?" he croaked.

She held his eyes with hers, "Neave, its me, Myste. We're in Kyril's tent, remember?. We succeeded in triggering a memory--a little too well I think."

"Oh." he said and shut his eyes. His head was beginning to hurt abominably. Myste started shaking his shoulders again.

:Chosen?: Kydathar's mind voice was frightened, :Are you all right?:

:No.: There was no way to lie to Kyldathar, :I think I'm going to be sick if Myste keeps shaking me: She stopped abruptly. Her Companion must have passed on the message. People were talking above his head, he wasn't sure what about.

He suddenly realized that he was going to be sick even though Myste had stopped shaking him. Kyldathar must have warned somebody. He found himself tipped on his side so he could vomit into a basin off the side of the bed.

Someone must have summoned a Healer. A pair of small hands touched his head and the vomiting subsided. Other hands sat him up and put a hot drink to his lips. He recognized it as a very strong concoction of headache tea. He must have given himself backlash sickness.

After he'd swallowed it, the small hands were on his head again, and he felt himself being led down into a calm sleep.

**

"I hope that was worth it." said Myste harshly to Kyril, who was white faced and shaking. Because of the way Neave's Gift worked, they both received the entire memory as one piece. It wasn't quite like something happening to them. They saw what happened from his point of view without necessarily sharing his emotions. But they'd shared enough.

The Healers had just taken Neave to sleep off his backlash headache. Kyril told them that Neave had been gathering intelligence, so they were treating him as they'd treat an overextended Farseer-- of which there had been several in the past few days.

"I think it was." said Kyril firmly, "I think I need to meet with Talia about this, if the Healers can hold her together for half a candlemark."

"Why?" asked Myste, still not quite seeing the use of what they'd uncovered.

"We suspected, now we're sure, that these mages can pull energy from pain and despair. Neave doesn't have a lot of Sight, but he could See the energy drain. I imagine thats why he was selected by the mage. He had enough Gift active to make it easy to drain him. And untrained he'd not be able to even try to shield."

Myste nodded, "Poor lad."

"This Ancar has a great deal to answer for." said Kyril grimly


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N If you are upset or squicked by cutting (aka: self mutilation) there is a scene here that might be upsetting. Again not that graphic, I assume if you've hung this far, you'll be okay. **

The Healers who were treating Neave seemed under the impression that he'd gotten his backlash through Farseeing. Myste and Kyril must have told them that. He wished that were the case. He felt something of a fraud--he'd been merely passing on a memory and he couldn't see how it could possibly be of use. The intelligence it held was coming far too late to be of any use. If he'd gone to Elcarth when he'd first heard about the marriage suit, he might have been able to prevent Kris' death and Talia's torture.

He did, in truth, have backlash. His Gift best manifested itself through speaking--Mindspeaking and projecting images at the same time always gave him a headache.

Neave was grateful he'd told Kyril that he'd prefer to keep it among Heralds. He couldn't have borne anyone else knowing. Knowing how badly he'd failed because he was too cowardly to examine those memories closely. Fortunately, the headache potion generally put him to sleep that never troubled him with dreams.

He woke up that evening with a headache that had been reduced to managable proportions. One of the Healers handed him another cup of headache tea and directed him to go get some food.

Before he went to find some dinner though, he decided to go bathe. He felt entirely filthy and as though he wanted to scrub the skin from his body. A dark self loathing that he hadn't felt in years welled up, worse than his backlash. He wondered if it was that, that had made him retch more than the headache. Thankfully, the Keep had bathing facilities enough that they could accomodate most of the Healers and Heralds at the Keep. Because it was warm, the Guard Units were making do with the river.

It was early, so no one was there. He ran a bath that was perhaps hotter than was comfortable, but not hot enough to do him real injury. Then he did something that he almost never did and shielded Kyldathar entirely out of his mind, telling her he wanted some privacy to think.

He sat in the hot water, weeping as he'd not done since Ylsa died.

After the hysteria of his tears wore out, he stared at the white uniform that lay over the bench with its assortment of blades stacked neatly on top.

He realized he had to pull himself together, people were counting on him. He couldn't afford to give in to the black depths that were pulling at him. They sat on the edge of a battle, he didn't have the luxury of going mad.

He remembered suddenly, what he used to do as a child, when things were especially bad. He got up, pulled a towel around his waist and considered the dagger he always wore at his hip. It was sharp and clean. He was glad he'd already blocked Kyldathar out of his mind, as she would neither understand nor approve. He remembered briefly how Mara had reacted when she'd found out. At the time he'd defended it by pointing out that it was better than the poppy habit some of the girls had. He hadn't felt the urge to do this since he'd been Chosen.

He pulled it out of its sheath, careful not to drip water onto his Whites. Walked back over to the bathtub. Holding his forearm out over the tub, he considered how best to do this. The skin of his arm was bright red from the hot water. With deliberate movements, he drew a long shallow cut down the back of his arm, from just below the elbow to just above the wrist.

It bled freely, but the relief was instantaneous. The pain cleared his head, settled his stomach. He grabbed another towel, pressing the wound hard so he didn't drip blood onto the floor. He was able to cope again.

Before he dressed, he made sure the cut was clean and had stopped bleeding. If it got infected, he'd have to go see a Healer and that was not something he wanted to do. He didn't want anyone to catch him doing this, least of all Kyldathar. He hated keeping secrets from her, but he knew she wouldn't understand and would only become distressed. She never pried into his mind, so as long as she didn't see it, she wouldn't ask him about it.

Now he felt like he could face some food.

***

Neave sat in the woods with a unit of Hardornen defectors. _All _of the Hardornen Border Guard had come over to the Valdemaran side. Talia had been aided by a trader who had gotten her message arrows to Rolan. The trader had then fled the Hardornen capital carrying with him the tale of Ancar's murder of Alessandar, passing it on to other traders who carried it further. They Truth Spelled the defectors, so there was very little chance of planting a traitor in their midst.

It was a day and a half since Neave had spoken with Kyril and Myste. At one point he thought he'd seen Myste giving him a hard look from a distance, but everyone had far more things to worry about than him. He had hardly spoken with anyone but Kyldathar. He could sense her concern, but he told her he was just having the same battle nerves as everyone else. At least he thought that must be it. His encounters with raiders had happened so fast he didn't have time to get antsy beforehand.

Valdemar's forces had arrayed themselves according to her warleader's plans during the night.

Neave's job was to pass on orders from Kyril that he received through Mindspeech. Hardornen being Neave's native language was a real asset here--there was no fear that in a panic he'd not be able to remember a phrase. Under stress, he still swore in Hardornen.

They could hear the sounds of battle from beyond the screen of the trees. Neave could follow the battle through Kyldathar's connection with the other Companions. She kept up a running commentary describing it. Tensely, Neave listened to her describing the mage born demons who cut through their forces.

Then, finally, it seemed that Griffon had reached the mage with his firestarting. They saw a column of smoke rise up over the trees. Half a candlemark later, they had the order they were waiting for. Barking terse orders in Hardornen, Neave drew his sword and pointed forward so that any who were beyond the reach of his voice could see the signal. As one, the mass of soldiers burst from the woods.

At last released from their duty to relay messages, Kydathar and Neave threw themselves into the battle. He sheathed his sword and drew his bow. Neave was good from horseback, as he'd discovered against the raiders. His thin frame was little burden to Kyldathar and he seldom missed a shot, no matter what manuevers Kyldathar had to take. The only way to get Neave from Kyldathar's back now would be to kill one of them.

After what seemed far too short a time, Neave ran out of targets--Ancar's forces were turning tail. They fled with no discipline, in panic rather than retreat. The Valdemaran forces around him were standing and cheering or beginning to look to their wounded comrades.

For a moment, Neave sat stunned. He'd felt the same against the raiders--it felt oddly anticlimatic when they just turned and ran. As though it were a trick and they'd be at his throat again in a moment.

After a few minutes, he realized that the victory was real and no ruse. He quickly dismounted and began the to look to the wounded himself, for there were many. The ground was littered with the broken bodies. He called to the closest standing Guards to help him.

Neave took a several pieces of chalk, along with some chunks of charcoal from Kyldathar's saddlebag :Why don't you go up and find some food, love?: he told her, :I'll be up once we get the wounded sorted.: She touched his cheek with her nose.

They removed helmets, separating the quick from the dead. If they had a pulse and still breathed, they were marked with white chalk which showed up on the Guards blue uniforms nicely. If they were already gone, they were marked with black charcoal. This way the Healers who were already making their way onto the battlefield would know where to use their time.

Once they'd sorted those out, Neave went back and helped with field dressing wounds. It was upsetting to discover that some of those with white chalk marks had to be given black marks when he made his second pass.

The walking wounded were already making their own way up to the rear. Those who were not badly hurt could be treated within the encampement, the rest were sent on to the Keep.

It was many candlemarks later when Neave made his own way to the camp. He had stayed, first helping the Healers and then, when they ran out of wounded, helping recover the bodies of the slain. He couldn't see leaving them any longer than he had to. The sun westered and sank. The light became dim enough that it was hard to see, he wondered if he should call for a torch.

Kyldathar asked when he was planning on returning. :Soon, love.: was all he said.

Finally, one of the officers came over to him, "Herald?"

"Yes?" Neave didn't look up. He was helping heave another one of the bodies into the wagon.

"Pardon me Herald, the men say you've yet to take a break."

"I'm fine." Neave said shortly, wondering why the man couldn't see that they still had so much to do.

"No, Herald, you're not. You've been down here since the battle ended and you're dead on your feet."

Neave shrugged.

The officer took a deep breath, "Herald, if I have to have someone hit you on the head and drag you to the Healers, I will. We're calling it a night. None of the men here." he indicated the few bodies that were left waiting to be taken to the Chapel, "Will be any the worse off in the morning."

Neave peered at the man in the darkness. The officer was quite a few years older than himself. The man sighed and took Neave's arm, "Come on, Herald, you're done here."

The officer led Neave past the encampment, up to the Keep, "Cook tent's closed. They've got a late supper up here for the stragglers." he explained.

They went into the great hall where a handful of blue, white and green and grey uniforms sat around tables. The officer sat Neave down next to a grey clad young woman who was picking at her own food with disinterest. After a moment the officer set a plate of food in front of Neave, "Eat. Thats an order." The officer walked away muttering about Heralds without the sense the Goddess gave a chick.

Neave took a few bites and began to take a bit more interest in his surroundings. He realized that he sat next to Elspeth. She looked dreadful, "Are you all right?" he asked her softly.

She looked up at him with haunted eyes, "No. I don't think I'll be all right for a while." she said in a low voice. Neave realized that her grays were flecked with blood. She must have been helping the Healers.

He nodded, "I know what you mean."


	17. Chapter 17

Selenay issued orders to move the wounded and most of the Heralds back to the capital the day after the battle. Elspeth was being sent back to Haven with full power of Regency. Kyril and the Council were accompanying her. Selenay was remaining at the border. The Foreseers were still uneasy, apparently.

It took several days to make the arrangements. The Healers wanted to make sure all of the wounded were stable enough to make the trip. Every Herald who was able was being pressed into helping the Healers. Neave discovered he was one of those Heralds with a particular talent for it. His Gift was enough like the Bardic Gift that he had the primitive pain blocking some of them had. He could talk a frightened or confused patient calm as well as feed a Healer energy.

Neave worked himself to a shadow helping the Healers. It felt so much better when he was in motion. Then, when he did collapse, he slept like the dead. He valued that escape. Kyldathar fretted about him, but he kept telling her that everyone was working just as hard as he was. It was mostly true.

Kyldathar picked up something of his turmoil, but she seemed uncertain what to say. For the most part she just wordlessly let him know she was there. Neave didn't feel like talking.

He was relieved that Myste was to stay with Alberich and Selenay at the border. She'd tried to speak with him after the battle, but he had dodged her efforts. She'd want to talk about the memory that she and Kyril had dug out of his head, to ask him why he hadn't told anyone before. When it could have been some use. She was not likely to condemn him, but in some ways that was worse.

There had been a lot of debate about when Talia should make the long trip back to Haven, but it was decided that for the sake of her mental state as well as her physical, it would be best to take her home as soon as possible. The word was that although she was out of danger, it would be some time before Talia was well again.

When Neave got a good look at Talia, the shame of it nearly crushed him. If he'd told someone what he knew, Talia and Kris wouldn't have walked so blindly into a trap.

The first time she was taken out of the Keep was the morning they were to leave. Two Healers, with the help of Dirk and Skif, carried her down to a wagon on a litter. She was bandaged to her neck and drugged to her eyebrows. Half conscious, Talia's face was still lined with pain.

The Heralds, caring for their Companions or already waiting to get started, involuntarily stopped what they were doing to stare. Some of them couldn't look for more than a moment and turned their faces away. Keren, mounted on Dantris not too far from where Neave stood, choked back a sob. None of them had been allowed to see Talia except Elspeth and Dirk, until now.

As soon as she was settled in the wagon, Rolan came over to nuzzle Talia's face. She opened her eyes and rubbed his nose. Her face held a bit less pain now that she was in contact with her Companion. Elspeth and one of the Healers climbed in next to her, arranging a sheet of cloth held by strips of wood above the wagon to keep the sun off.

Neave knew that Skif had spent that morning waiting outside her door, determined that he should at least see her and help if he could.

There were other wounded who were carried on wagons attended by other Healers. The pace was slow enough to be entirely maddening to Neave. He found himself scratching at the long cut on his arm with his fingernails. When he noticed he was doing that, he wound his hands in Kydathar's mane instead.

By that afternoon, Neave was exhausted by the effort of trying to act normally.

They camped early, the Healer's determined that the wounded were to be allowed as much rest as possible.

:Chosen? When did you last eat?: Kyldathar asked him gently, as he stripped off her tack and set up their camp.

Neave realized he couldn't remember whether he'd eaten that day or not.

:Love, go eat. You don't help anything by making yourself ill.: She leaned forward and touched his cheek with her nose, like a kiss. He leaned his forehead on her nose and closed his eyes. :Skif's looking for you: she said, suddenly, a breath before Neave heard quiet footsteps.

"Over here, Skif." Called Neave, turning from Kyldathar.

Skif looked pale and worried. "Devan needs someone who can help with Talia. One of the other Healers said I should find you. Dirk and I are no good at it and Elspeth's going to wear herself out."

"Yes, of course." Neave said immediately, he moved to follow Skif, but Kyldathar moved in front of Neave and gave him a shove with her nose, "Right after I find something to eat." he assured her.

Skif grinned like his old self for a moment, "I think I can manage to find you something. Just come on before Devan has kittens."

Kyldathar paced alongside them as though to make sure Skif followed up on his promise.

They had Talia sheltered in one of the larger tents like Selenay normally used. Dirk and Elspeth both stayed with her, although they both appeared to be elsewhere at the moment. Talia lay with her eyes closed. Devan was there looking tired to the bone. "Thank you, for coming." Devan said, "Healer Thesa said you were quite good at this."

Talia opened her eyes and smiled wanly, "Neave's another one with odd Gifts." she whispered.

Neave took his seat next to Devan and linked with him in the way that had become familiar in the last few days. Neave closed his eyes and watched the energy flowing from himself into Devan--he realized that Talia was being fed by Rolan as well. Kyldathar joined the link and for a moment he was completely at peace.

When he opened his eyes again Talia looked better, not quite so pale and pinched. Devan looked pleased, "I might ask you to do that again Neave, thank you."

Neave shrugged, smiled tiredly.

Just then Skif came back with Elspeth and Dirk, all carrying food, "Here," he handed Neave a plate, "Eat that, so Kyldathar stops giving me dirty looks." Neave moved out of the way so Elspeth and Dirk could take the seats he and Devan had been occupying. Devan moved to sit on his own cot. Neave sat on the floor of the tent, since it seemed like it would be ungracious to just leave, Skif sat down next to him.

Neave watched Talia while he ate. Dirk helped her sit and Elspeth fussed with the food. She was so weak that getting spoon from plate to mouth was obviously an effort. After a few bites she seemed to give up. "Come on, love." coaxed Dirk gently, he touched her cheek.

She winced away a little, gave Dirk a brief brave smile, "I can't. I'm tired." She closed her eyes. Neave didn't need to be an Empath to see the tension in her body, or the way she shrank into herself a little at Dirk's touch. He wondered if Dirk realized it, or perhaps Dirk had never learned to read those signs.

Skif sat beside him, giving Talia a measuring look. Neave stood, touched Skif's shoulder, beckoned him to the tent flap with a jerk of his head. Skif stood too, picking up the remains of his dinner and Devan's, "If you lot need anything," said Skif, "Let Cymry know."

Dirk and Elspeth turned to acknowledge their leaving, "If Devan needs more help, Kyldathar can call me." said Neave.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Neave said, "You saw that?"

Skif didn't say anything for a moment, then he nodded. "I'm still not entirely sure what they did to her...I'm not asking her and the Healers won't tell me."

"Did you--did you see the state of her clothes when Dirk brought her in?" Neave asked in a low voice.

Skif shook his head, "No, not really."

Neave sighed, "She...well...from the blood...I'm pretty certain she was raped at least once. Given everything else they did, I can't imagine they stopped at once."

"No." Skif said shortly.

"Didn't you tell me once that she was shy of men in general? Does Dirk know that?" Neave had heard the tale of Dirk and Talia's lifebond. That was all over the camp. He tried to think though, how often he'd ever actually seen them together. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew Talia better than Dirk did.

"Oh." said Skif as the copper dropped, "I never thought of that."

Neave nodded, "I know that life bonds are just short of Companion bonds, but even so we don't just instantly know everything about each other. And it won't even occur to them. You're close to them both. Can you talk to them?"

"Yes, I think so...maybe I should talk to the Healers too...They might not realize, either, about her life before she was Chosen" Skif said musingly, "She always acts so damned strong."

"We get so used to thinking of ourselves as Heralds, that _we _sometimes forget who we were before we were Chosen." Neave agreed. his own stomach roiling again. He didn't like to think how much damage had been done because he had forgotten.

Skif looked at Neave a little sharply, as if Neave had betrayed something of his own emotional state, but didn't say anything.

Neave continued, "It might be hard for her to cope with people being close to her for a while. Worse, since she's so hurt, she has to have help with even the simplest things. It makes you feel pretty vulnerable--when I..." Neave stopped realizing he was saying more than he intended. "Well, anyway...it's got to be hard to be trying to deal with all that and being so wrecked that you can't even run away."

"Hmm." Skif seemed to be thinking over some of the interactions he'd had with Talia. Neave left him still thinking.

Much to Neave's relief, Kyldathar was already sleeping. She never noticed if he shielded her out after she'd dozed off. Most of the time it was because he'd found himself some female companionship, so it didn't set off any alarms. The last few nights had been so he could do this.

He walked a little way out into the darkness, beyond the campfire lights and found a log to sit on. The moon was half full and provided enough light not to break his neck. Although, if it hadn't been for Kyldathar, perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad option. No, that really wasn't what he wanted anyway. He wanted Kira's screams to stop echoing in his head. He wanted to stop seeing Ancar's bored face. He wanted to stop feeling like he was going to go mad.

He pulled out his smaller hip dagger. The encounter with Talia had reawakened that awful black wave he'd been staving off with overwork. He pushed his shirt sleeve up to his elbow and regarded the healing cuts on his arm, barely visible in the moonlight.

Just below his elbow he made a small cut perpendicular to the long one, underneath the others. He couldn't say it felt good exactly, but the pain left relief in its wake.

:Chosen! Stop that!: Neave started, he'd been so intent on what he was doing, he hadn't even heard her come up behind him, :What are you doing?: Kyldathar's tone sounded exactly like Mara's had so many years ago.

Neave turned to her, :It helps sometimes.:

:But--but you're hurting yourself!: she wailed.

:It hurts less than what's going on in my head.: he told her matter of factly. He could think now.

She came close to him, :How long have you been doing this?:

He shrugged :Since Myste and Kyril dug that memory out of my head.: he pressed a handkerchief over the new cut before it could spot his Whites.

:Damn them.: Kyldathar spat angrily, :And damn me for letting them do it. I knew we should have tried to find a Healer...:

:Love. Let it go.: he told her wearily.

:I will NOT.: She stared at him in the moonlight, :I don't want you hurting yourself anymore. Promise me you'll stop.:

:I can't.: he said to her quietly, knowing that he couldn't lie to her mind to mind, :I can't promise to stop. I can't explain it, but it's all I know to do with this.:

She stood there considering him for a long time. He wondered if Companions had ever repudiated someone for madness.

:No, Chosen. No one's ever been repudiated for madness.: she said gently as she caught the thought, :And I don't think you're mad. I think you're just hurting a lot. Will you at least promise to talk to one of the Healers?:

:Maybe: he said after a moment.


	18. Chapter 18

The journey to Haven took over a week and Devan was not able to breathe easily until Talia was safely ensconced in her own rooms. Caring for someone as injured as Talia on the road was something he never wanted to do again. Neave knew this because he had been helping Devan at irregular intervals, along with some of the other Heralds and Devan told anyone who'd listen.

Talia would be months Healing and she was stubbornly insisting that she needed to meet with the Council and demanded that Devan find ways to hold her together. Devan didn't understand, but Neave did. He remembered what he told Ylsa a lifetime ago, that sometimes looking after someone else was the only thing that made it bearable.

Kyldathar was worried about him. She didn't say too much, but Neave could feel her all the time in his head. He found it a comfort and he had less of an urge to cut himself. She wanted him to talk to the Mindhealers and he was afraid to. He feared what they'd say--what they'd think. The point was moot until they got back to Haven though, none of the Mindhealers had come to the border. Given the amount of trauma some of the soldiers who'd faced down demons were dealing with, Neave felt his own problems would wait.

He promised Kyldathar that he'd at least talk to Elcarth, when they got back to Haven. She was of the opinion that what Kyril had done was responsible for most of his-- behavior. Perhaps certain memories were best left unremembered.

For Kyldathar, he tried to keep his hands busy and his thoughts away from his knives. Once or twice, when it just got to be too much, he'd quietly shielded her out and added to his small collection of healing cuts. She wasn't happy, but for now she understood it was the best he could do. When he was a boy, he'd done it almost daily. Hadn't even bothered to hide it.

Until that night with Ancar. It seemed that there were other things about that night just beyond his reach that Kyril hadn't triggered. Dim pictures that still had a fuzzy, dreamy quality. Now that he thought about it, nothing was clear from that night until weeks later when Deena stopped feeding him potions. He'd always avoided trying to remember too much about that time.

Their arrival at Haven was chaotic and time consuming, but eventually everything was done. There were many hands at the Palace to take care of the baggage. The Guard members were relieved of duty and sent to their barracks. The Healers and wounded were taken to the Healer's Collegium. The Companions were turned out to the Field and the Heralds were given orders to eat and rest.

Neave felt human after he had what felt like his first decent meal and decent bath in weeks. That wasn't entirely accurate, but thats how it felt. Most of the Heralds seemed to feel the same, given how their moods shifted for the better after doing the same thing.

After dinner, he wandered back out to Companion's Field. It felt good to be able to let his guard down. He noticed Skif and Dirk were leaning against the fence of the Field, "Healer's run you off?" he asked them quietly, coming to stand next to Dirk. Dirk nodded, giving him a glance and a half smile.

Skif, on Dirk's other side said, "You two want to come back to my room for a drink?"

Dirk sighed, "That sounds like a fine idea."

Neave nodded, and walked back up to the Palace alongside Dirk and Skif. Skif asked a page to bring up a few bottles of wine. By the time it arrived, the three of them had settled into Skif's room.

"So, how is she today?" asked Neave, when Skif handed him his glass.

Dirk answered, "Devan says she's getting better. She's just so weak. And she's...I don't know...nervous? After what she's been through..." his voice trailed off.

Skif gave Neave a knowing look, "She needs some time," Skif told Dirk.

"I know." Dirk was looking bleak, "It's just, sometimes, when she looks at me, I know she's not seeing me. And I can't stand to see her afraid like that. I'm not sure what to do." he ran his hand through his hair, "How does someone get over something like _that_? Half the time I'm not even sure what I'm doing to upset her. I can see it in her eyes, but she won't tell me what I'm doing wrong."

"Dirk, I _know _its not what you're doing. She's always been a little afraid of men...She'll get over it again." It sounded like Skif had gone over this with Dirk before. It had the air of a well worn path.

Dirk stood and began to pace, "_Do _women get over this? I need her like nothing else...and...and I thought...but is she ever going to want me?" he was sounding more and more agitated.

"Whoa, calm down." said Skif, "Of course they do. And this is Talia we're speaking of. I don't know anyone stronger. I've known a lot of women who've had...who've been..." Skif steeled himself visibly "Who've been raped. And they do get over it."

"How?" Dirk all but wailed, "I've never know anyone this has happened to. Gods, how do you even start?"

Neave sighed and both Skif and Dirk started, clearly they had both forgotten he was there, "Its not so much that you get over it, " Neave said quietly, "It's like when you break a bone. It heals if you give it time and care. Sometimes it aches when it rains. You may never be the same, but you heal." Neave paused to take a drink of his wine, he looked significantly at Dirk "As for not knowing anyone its happened to, chances are, it's just not something that ever came up in conversation."

Dirk stared at him for a moment, it was clear that he suddenly remembered that night six years ago. He sat down again, blushing and looking a little chagrined, "I beg your pardon, Neave I..."

Neave waved off his half formed apology with a slight smile, "It's all right. Long time ago. The point is that Talia will not be well for a while and that's just how its going to be. She needs to learn to feel safe again. Some of that's just going to come from being home and Healing physically. "

Skif nodded emphatically, "She's already doing as well as we could hope, really."

Dirk looked dubious, so Neave said, "Truly. She is. There was a woman on the border that I met, she got caught by raiders. She was too afraid to leave her house. She just lay in her bed, wouldn't even look at her family. We had to take her to a Healing Temple because her husband was afraid she'd do herself injury some night. Talia's not doing that. She still wants to meet with Kyril and the Council. She still wants to do her job. Talia hasn't given up living. She's too stubborn to let them win. That's the reason she didn't die in that damned dungeon I'd wager."

"But..." Dirk began, then stopped.

"Did Kri...did you ever hear about the girl who killed herself the day Kyldathar found me?" Neave asked.

Dirk nodded soberly, Skif looked confused, "She had decided to stop living weeks before she hung herself, I guess. She didn't have anyone to look after her or help her." Neave wasn't sure if he was saying this for Dirk's benefit or his own, "When things...happened...I had Mara. And then I had Kyldathar and Ylsa. And then I got here. Talia's got you, and Rolan and all the rest of us."

"So, what can I do for her, right now? I keep feeling like I'm making things worse." Dirk said sadly.

"I had a thought," said Skif, "Maybe--maybe you should leave for a little? All of us who were at the border have leave coming, according to Kyril. Maybe you should go away for a bit. Let her get her equilibrium back."

Dirk looked at him confused, "You think I should leave her?"

"Just long enough for the Healers to get somewhere with her." Skif said, "Maybe... I don't know... You could go back to see your family? You haven't told them that you're planning to get married, yet."

Dirk smiled a little at that. "Yes, I suppose they may want to know. But...do you think I can leave for that long? I'm not sure..."

"Have you talked to the Healers?" asked Skif, "I know that Devan was planning on asking Rynee to work with her." Rynee was one of the Mindhealers. "Ask her what she thinks. We can be out of here before lunch tomorrow. You know if we stay here, we'll get assigned to something."

Dirk looked, if not happier, at least more settled.

***

Kyldathar reminded Neave in the morning about his promise to talk with Elcarth. She helpfully told him that Elcarth was in his office according to Elcarth's Companion, and quite available to talk. He cursed her in three languages. Kyldathar wisely said nothing.

Neave walked down the hallway feeling oddly apprehensive. He had a sudden sharp memory of the first time he'd walked into the Dean's office. He knocked and the Dean called him in.

"Sorry to bother you, Dean." Neave began.

"No bother. Actually, given that classes won't start for a few more weeks, you've picked a fairly good time." said Elcarth lightly, he moved a stack of books off one of the chairs so Neave could sit, "So what can I do for you?"

Neave was not at all sure how to talk about this, "I...Kyldathar said I should show you..." He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, showing the pattern of slashes he'd made on his forearm. Some of them mostly healed, a few of them fresh.

Elcarth looked from Neave's arm to his face, not really comprehending, "How did those happen?"

Neave licked his dry lips, "I did it." He waited to see Elcarth's reaction. Uneasily, he passed his hand over the cuts. He resisted the urge to scratch at them.

Elcarth looked very serious, "How long have you been doing that?"

Very quietly, Neave told Elcarth about the memory Kyril had triggered, and how he had been since then "Since Kyldathar found out, I've been doing it less. It upsets her." he finished.

"I imagine so." said Elcarth, apparently thinking hard. One of the things Neave had always liked about the elderly Herald was that he never became visibly ruffled. Even in anger he was stern rather than violent. Now, Neave could tell he was shaken, but he was putting on his calm face, "I think it rather upsets me."

"I'm sorry, sir...I don't know how to stop. I..." Neave said, feeling a little desperate. He hadn't mentioned the feeling that this was all that stood between himself and madness.

"No, no. I'm not upset with you." Elcarth cut him off, "I do think Kyldathar is correct and Kyril triggering that memory is what brought this on. You say that you haven't even had the urge to do this since you were Chosen?"

"Well, actually, since a little before that, I think. From when I was hurt."

Elcarth got up from his seat, as usual there was a page waiting outside the door, "Would you go find Rynee for me, please? I believe she's seeing Talia this morning. Go wait for her and ask her to come see me when she's done."

Elcarth sat back down, "Kyril tells me that Rynee's with Talia now, so we have some time to wait, I don't want you leaving until you speak with her."

Neave nodded, a little shamefaced.

"Lord of Lights, I'm sorry Neave." Elcarth said after a moment.

"Pardon me?"

"I'm sorry that you had to go through all this."

Neave shrugged fatalistically, "It happens."

Elcarth was at a loss, Neave had appeared to be the most stable of people. Perhaps too stable, Elcarth reflected, given his history. Elcarth had watched the boy carefully for years. He knew, of course, that Neave had spent his first few months at the Collegium sleeping with Kyldathar. But it hadn't taken that long for him to settle down.

He was not one for displays of emotion, although he would let his guard down in front of Elcarth. Almost never had Elcarth seen the young man angry. Perhaps this cutting had to do with that.

They sat quietly for a few minutes. Elcarth couldn't think of anything to say that would help.

"Can I ask you something?" Elcarth ventured, Neave nodded. "Why do you think you do this?"

Neave shrugged again, he wouldn't look up. After a long moment he said, "Sometimes, it seems like I can't think." he paused, "I don't know why...I know it's crazy."

"But you're not intending to do yourself serious hurt?" Elcarth worried that perhaps this was the beginning of a pattern that led to suicide, although Heralds rarely made such gestures while their Companions lived.

"No." Neave finally did look up, "It's not about killing myself, if that's what you're thinking." he spoke a little more sharply than he usually did.

Elcarth grasped his hand, "I'm glad to hear that."

There was a knock at the door. "Come." called Elcarth.

It was Rynee, "You wanted to see me, Dean?" Neave had never met her before and looked dubiously at the young Healer who hardly seemed of sufficient age to have full Greens.

"Yes. I wanted you to have a word with Neave, if you don't mind. I have somethings to attend to so you can use my office for the next candlemark or so." he stood, "Neave, I'll be available later if you want to talk." he said kindly, and left.

Rynee sat herself down opposite Neave, "Want to tell me what this is about?" she said gently.

Neave closed his eyes and pulled up his sleeve to show her.

"How did you get these?" Neave still had his eyes closed, but her voice was kind. She took his arm in her hand and touched the slashes lightly, "They were made by a knife, but most of them are too fresh to have been gotten at the border." she said.

Neave nodded. He was having a much harder time telling this pretty young girl what he'd done than he had with Elcarth.

"They're all wrong to have been picked up sparring with steel. So, you did this to yourself?"

Relieved that he didn't have to say it out loud, he finally opened his eyes, "Yes."

She nodded. "Can you tell me what started it off?"

"Kyldathar thinks that the memory Kyril recovered from me before the battle did it. I never remembered it properly before and now it won't leave me alone. It...I see it all the time...when it gets bad I cut myself and it goes away for a while."

Rynee just listened. When he'd run out of words, she said, "I think that Kyldathar is correct Neave, to an extent. I can certainly help with that, right now. I also think that I can probably help with more than that, if you'll let me."

Neave didn't like the idea of a non Herald in his mind, but he had promised Kyldathar. He nodded. She looked into his eyes, "Will you tell me everything you remember?"

Yet again, he recounted the memory Kyril triggered. After the first few words, it got easier and he found himself admitting to Rynee what he'd not been able to admit to Elcarth, his guilt that he hadn't come forward sooner. By the time he was done, he was shaking, but he felt oddly lighter.

Rynee leaned forward to brush his hair out of his eyes, "How do you feel now?" she asked.

Neave shook himself, how long had he been talking? His throat was sore, and by the light, they'd been here for much more than a candle mark--it seemed almost dinner time, "I think I'm hungry." he said.

Rynee smiled tiredly, "Good. Go get some food and have an early night. If you find yourself wanting to cut yourself, I want you to take Kyldathar for a long ride. A fast ride. If you still want to cut yourself after that, come find me and I'll do my best for you. I won't ask you to promise to stop, its too hard to handle by yourself. All right?"

He nodded, realizing he must have fallen into a half trance while talking to her. The images that had been so vivid this morning were fuzzy again, not so intrusive. "Thank you." he said, leaving to do as he was told.

Rynee sat there for a few minutes, collecting herself. Elcarth and Kyril came in as soon as Neave was around the corner. "I have a bone to pick with you, Kyril." she said evenly, "Next time you decide to go mucking about in people's heads, you need to make damned sure you contain the damage."

Kyril looked very distressed, "I knew he was upset. I had no idea...Will he be all right?"

Rynee nodded, "If he hasn't had a breakdown through this...You Heralds all seem to be made extraordinarily strong stuff. Although, I think that you all think you're invincible."

Both Elcarth and Kyril looked relieved.

Rynee went on, "I wonder if you'd do me a favor though, would you make sure he has an assignment in Haven? Preferably at the Palace, until at least until Midwinter."

"Of course," said Kyril immediately.

"I also have a notion that he may be able to help me with Talia. You know we sent Dirk off this morning? I think that Talia needs some men around her that she can feel safe with. Elspeth has been sleeping in Talia's rooms and plans to continue since Talia can't be left alone. I have been trying to think of someone who could share the duty with her. I think Neave would be perfect."

"Why?" asked Elcarth.

"Because he won't be horrified by what Talia's been through. He won't be disgusted or fearful for her. That's half of what is the trouble between her and Dirk right now. His very natural feelings just overwhelm her. Its not his fault, but it complicates things." Rynee explained. "Devan tells me that Neave is very good at helping Healers, so it won't look strange to either of them, that we assign him to this."

"Hmm," said Elcarth thoughtfully, "And Talia knows Neave fairly well. I think that might be very good for both of them."


	19. Chapter 19

When Neave woke up, there was a message waiting for him. One of the pages had slid it under the door, as Neave had locked it as he always did. Neave wondered briefly what the pages would make of that habit--most of the other Heralds only locked their doors if they had company. As a student, he didn't have pages bringing him messages.

:They'll probably assume what the other trainees did. That you entertain pretty Bardic apprentices every night.: Said Kyldathar. She sounded as though her good humor had been restored.

:Well, they were right some of the time.: Neave smiled back.

It was a note from Elcarth asking Neave if he would be willing to take an assignment helping the Healers, apparently Rynee had asked for him. They wanted to discuss the particulars after the noon meal. He was glad they wanted to meet in the afternoon, as it appeared he'd slept half the morning away. Rynee had probably guessed he would. His sleep last night had been very deep.

:I suppose she feels she needs to keep an eye on me: Neave said to Kyldathar dryly, :We're probably going to get fetching and carrying duty until she's convinced I'm not going to lose my mind entirely.:

Neave made himself presentable to meet with Elcarth and Rynee. He did feel better than he had since the battle--not on such a short fuse. Well, he didn't mind working with the Healers, really. He just didn't want them hovering, waiting for him to crack at any moment.

Rynee arrived at Elcarth's office the same time Neave did. She gave him a smile with no sign of awkwardness.

Elcarth's office door was open, so they went in. He had some chairs waiting for them, Neave shut the door behind him.

"Thank you for coming Neave," Said Elcarth as they sat down, "I have to tell you, I'm very sorry to have to hand you yet another assignment, right on the heels of what's already happened. Usually we can manage a week or two leave between crises."

Neave wondered what he'd do with a week or two leave.

:Maybe sleep?: Put in Kyldathar.

Neave told her to hush, gave Elcarth his full attention again, "Unfortunately the truth is, we're short handed, as usual. And this may just be something you're uniquely suited to."

That was a surprise. "I'm not sure I understand." said Neave. The tone of Elcarth's voice seemed to imply something beyond just assisting as he'd done. And certainly not the message relay work he'd been expecting to be assigned.

Elcarth nodded to Rynee, "I'm sure Healer Rynee can explain better than myself."

"Would you be willing to help Elspeth look after Talia?" Rynee asked, "Elspeth is running herself ragged. We can assign some Healers or Herald trainees to do a certain amount of the purely physical care during the day, but I hesitate to have anyone with her at night that she doesn't know well. I understand you do?"

"She was a year ahead of me. We've always been fairly friendly." Neave confirmed, "But, why not ask Keren or Sherril? Either of them are much closer to her than I am."

Rynee cleared her throat, "You know how badly Talia was hurt?"

Neave nodded, it was common knowledge.

"How much do you know? I mean, you are aware that some of the injuries were...sexual...in nature?" Rynee asked him delicately.

Neave nodded again, waiting for her to come to the point.

"It's important that she have some men around her that she can feel safe with. Normally, I'd be asking her father and brothers, if she had any, to come stay with her but.."

Neave smiled understandingly, "Talia's another one whose only family are the Heralds."

Rynee looked pleased that he'd grasped the problem so quickly, then she took a deep breath, "Which brings me to my next point...How much do you know about her Gift?"

"Quite a bit, actually. We were in the same class for training Gifts."

"Well, I need someone with her who won't upset her with their feelings. One of the reasons I have to be careful about who I ask to do this is that their reactions to what Talia's been through might be a problem." Rynee looked as though she feared to offend him but plunged on, "From what I picked up from you yesterday, you seem to have a strong stomach for this sort of thing."

"It's not exactly unusual." remarked Neave, shrugging, although he had noticed that many of the Herald trainees from better backgrounds were often shocked by some of the subjects that came up in the higher level classes.

Rynee's mouth was set in a grim line, "No, but most people want to believe it is. And the closer someone is to the victim..." she grimaced, "Sometime's its difficult to cope with. Talia's fairly exhausted most of the time. Her shields are very good, but I don't want her to have to use her energy to keep people out, which is why I only want Healers or Heralds looking after her for now. I especially don't want her spending energy keeping someone's horror or fury out. I need someone who is very solid emotionally, who can shield well and who is not unaccustomed to the idea that dreadful things happen in the world."

"And you couldn't find him, so you thought you'd ask me." Neave said lightly, his mouth quirked up at the corner. This was _very _different from what he'd expected.

Rynee gave him a wry smile, "I think you'll be fine. Please don't think I'm asking you to do this lightly. Devon suggested you actually. It would be very helpful if whoever we find for this can also help her Healers. Devon and Thesa spoke very highly of you on that count and Myrim mentioned that you'd helped the night Dirk brought her back."

Neave shrugged, "I'm pleased to be able to help, but are you sure? I haven't exactly been...I mean..." he felt himself flush and passed his right hand over his slashed forearm.

Rynee's eye were kind, "Truly, it's nothing we can't help you with, should you need it. I also gather that you feel better when you have work to do?"

He nodded in assent.

**

For the next week or so, after dinner, he climbed the long stairway to Talia's rooms. Most days the Healers were just getting done with her. Elspeth was taking most of her meals with Talia, so there was usually a servant clearing away. There was almost always a few minutes of flurry as things were squared away. Neave would carry Talia to bed as her feet were useless and would be until the broken bones healed. Elspeth would help her undress. More than once Elspeth teased Talia gently about reducing the Heir to the Throne to a lady's maid. After that Elspeth would retire to the cot she'd had set up outside Talia's bedroom door so she could hear if Talia called. Neave slept (if he did sleep) on the other cot they'd set up. He found himself catching up on much reading and producing lots of drawing.

If this was duty, it felt an awful lot like leave to Neave. He had no duty during the day, so he spent his mornings catching up on the sleep he couldn't get in Talia's rooms. His afternoons mostly with Kyldathar. He found that, although the urge to cut himself had eased, it hadn't gone away. He did as Rynee told him and took long rides on Kyldathar--he found that twice around the obstacle course generally made it bearable. If that didn't work, he looked for someone to spar with. Oddly enough, he discovered that Elspeth was in the salle almost every afternoon looking for someone to spar with herself. The Healers were with Talia every morning and every afternoon for a candle mark and would send Elspeth away.

Elspeth was good. When they were finished, Neave was usually exhausted enough to lose his urge to play with his knives.

Tonight, Rynee was the only one there, she smiled at Neave as he came in. "Neave, can you help me take Talia to her bed?." Elspeth hadn't returned yet--she was taking dinner with the Court for the first time since returning from the border.

Neave nodded and smiled at Talia who was looking more awake than she usually did this time of day. He bent and gathered her up in his arms, she gasped.

"Sorry."

"It's all right," she said a little breathlessly, as he carried her the few steps from her couch to her bed, "The Healers are trying to reduce the pain potions I'm on. I'm tired of being drugged all the time."

"I can understand that." he said sympathetically. He set her down as gently as possible on the bed, while Rynee arranged the bolster and pillows.

"Neave, will you hand me a bed gown from out of the press there?" Rynee asked as he made to leave. He handed it to her and took himself out of the room.

Elspeth had just returned when he went into the other room. She looked tired. She gave him a smile and went to help Rynee. When both the women came out, Neave was already settled at the table with paper and charcoal, working on a piece he'd started some days ago.

"We've changed the potions she's getting," said Rynee, "I think she'll be all right, but if she has too much pain during the night, I've left something stronger."

Elspeth nodded. She'd already changed into a lounging gown, "Thank you, Rynee," she said, yawning as she closed the door behind the Healer.

When Elspeth came back in, she sat on Talia's couch looking pensive.

"What are you working on?" she asked suddenly.

Neave blushed a little, "Its nothing..." he turned the paper so she could see it.

"Oh, this is beautiful!" Elspeth exclaimed. It was a portrait of Christa he'd been working on from memory. He had a vague idea of burning it in the Sovvan bonfire this year.

"Thank you." he said softly.

"I-I feel I should apologize," said Elspeth, "I've hardly spoken to you in the last week. I'm afraid it must come off as very rude."

Neave smiled gently, "You've had a lot to contend with lately. I'm not exactly great company myself."

She smiled back, settled herself more comfortably onto the couch. He continued with his drawing. Usually, Elspeth was so tired that she was asleep by now. He supposed that she had recovered a little from the recent stresses. She pulled out the book she'd been reading and they sat in companionable silence.

After a few minutes, Neave heard Elspeth's book fall to the floor. She'd dozed off on the couch. Neave picked up the book and threw a blanket over Elspeth.

He didn't sleep much here. It was hard to sleep when he couldn't lock the door. When he was out on circuit, he didn't have that problem with Kyldathar so close. The first place he could ever remember feeling safe was a Herald's Way Station. This tower room made him nervous on principal, there was only one way in or out unless one wanted to throw a rope out the window.

His own room was on the ground floor of the Herald's wing and had a glazed door out into the gardens. Neave had requested it at once, when he learned it was free. It had been part of a larger suite that had been broken up for the increasing number of Heralds. It was free because it was a little drafty and some of the servants whispered it was unlucky, but no one could remember why. He never worried much about "unlucky" and having a second bolt hole from his burrow was worth a little draft. If he was here during the winter, he'd just get more blankets.

He finished the portrait of Christa. He carefully blew the extra charcoal from the paper and put it into the portfolio he'd brought. He stood and stretched, it was quite late now. He considered attempting some sleep, decided against it and pulled out another piece of paper.

There was a low moan from Talia's bedroom. He walked over to her door and opened it, "Talia?" he called. Her candle had burned out and the fire was banked. Neave picked up a candle from the table by the door and put it in the wall sconce. Talia lay in her bed apparently still asleep. Her hands moved restlessly and she was sweating in the cool night. Neave wasn't sure how best to wake her. It was so hard to know how not to hurt her. He took two steps toward the bed.

She opened terrified eyes and threw a hand up to shield her face.

_Neave lay in the dark knowing nothing but pain. Kyldathar was beyond reach and Ancar had him. He lay dying, his body broken and nothing but the pain was real. He was incoherent with it and the grief of Kris' death. Kris was dead and it was his fault..._

:NEAVE! Wake up.: Kyldathar cried, :It's _Talia's _nightmare.:

Neave had stumbled into the wall, released from the grip of Talia's sending. Talia was still not awake although her eyes were wide and fear maddened. Rather than get any closer to her physically, Neave reached out with his mind, hoping she'd recognize him and not pull him in again.

"Talia?" he called with voice and mind, "Talia, you're having a bad dream."

"Wha-what?" she looked lost. Not recognizing her own room.

:Rolan says she's confused. Don't let her hurt herself.: Kyldathar told him.

From the other room, Neave heard Elspeth cry out. A thump and a curse.

"Elspeth!" cried Talia, she seemed to as if she was going to get up, to try to run to Elspeth.

"Talia! Don't." Neave crossed the room to her, "You'll hurt yourself." he put as much of his Gift behind his words as he had in him.

It worked. She froze, staring at him. Intelligence flowed into her face, "Oh. Neave."

"Elspeth?" he called, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." she called back, "I, uh, fell off the couch. Do you need help?" she sounded a little shaky.

It was Talia who answered, "No, catling, I'm fine." in a lower voice, she said "Please, I...don't want her..." tears were starting to trickle down her face and Neave guessed Talia didn't want Elspeth to see her break down.

"Should I get Rynee?" Neave asked her.

Talia shook her head, took a breath that was a sob.

Not knowing what else to do, Neave sat beside her on her bed. She put her arms around his waist and her head into his lap. He stroked her hair and murmured gentle reassurance, invoking his Gift again. "It's all right, sister. You're safe now." he said over and over. With the force of his Gift behind it she might believe it. After a very long time she ran out of tears. She wasn't asleep, he could tell from the tension in her body, but she was much more relaxed. Her bedgown was soaked with sweat and she was going to get chilled if she didn't change.

"Would you like me to get you another gown?" Neave asked after a long time, "Or I can wake up Elspeth."

"Would you help me? Poor Elspeth gets so little rest."

Neave pulled another gown out of the press. He had gotten a lot of practice helping the Healers with the practicalities of their patients. He gently helped Talia pull her gown off and pulled a clean one over her head. He guessed that having him help her like this was frightening, but the fact that she could allow it was probably something of a breakthrough. "Do you want me to change the sheets?" he asked.

"No." she was silent for a moment, "Would you...stay with me? I don't want to be alone right now."

"Of course. Do you want the stronger potion Rynee left?"

"No--it makes me too sleepy. If I dream..." she shuddered.

Neave nodded understandingly, "Maybe just a swallow, to take the edge off? And I don't mind sitting with you if it will help."

She nodded, "Yes, maybe that's a good idea."

Neave went into the next room to get the potion from the desk and a more comfortable chair. Elspeth was sitting tensely, :Is she all right?: she asked in Mindspeech not wanting Talia to hear.

:Mostly. She thinks you're sleeping: he grabbed the chair and potion.

:Not after _that.: _she looked frightened and sick, :Don't tell her...:

:Wasn't planning on it.: Neave realized that Talia had taken him for an enemy and defended herself with her Gift. He'd taken no harm from it, so he wasn't about to tell her.

Although, from the look on her face, Elspeth might be in difficulty. Well, he could talk to her when Talia was soothed down again.


	20. Chapter 20

Talia still sat tensely under the covers where Neave had left her. It was too painful for her to move much without help. "Is Elspeth asleep?" she asked.

"I think so." He lied.

She nodded, "Good. This is a lot for her. Poor thing."

He handed her the open potion bottle and the goblet of water. She swallowed delicately, handing it back to him almost full, "I'll take more if it doesn't help." she promised as he looked at her with raised eyebrows, "I just...don't want to sleep just yet."

He settled himself into the chair, "Want to tell me about it?"

She shook her head, looked away.

"It might help." He reached out his hand and carefully took her bandaged one in his.

She didn't pull away, but she didn't look at him. She sighed, "I don't know that anything will help."

They sat like that for a long time. The candle burned down and then out. Neave thought of all the nights he'd sat with Kyldathar, taking comfort in her presence. He reached for her and then brushed gently against Talia's shields with his own Gift, like a timid knock. Talia glanced at him, puzzled, but opened a thin channel between them. Their Companions joined the link. Using his Gift this way he could dull her pain a little and project a sense of warmth and safety that the Companions echoed. Talia relaxed and leaned her head against the pillows.

Eventually, the black window turned gray. The four way link faded as Talia drifted to sleep, just as pink started to touch the horizon.

Neave was still sitting there when Elspeth and Devan came in.

"She had a bad night?" asked Devan gravely.

Neave nodded, "She went back to sleep a few minutes ago." he whispered.

Devan ushered them both out into the other room, "Why don't you two get some sleep. Elspeth, cancel whatever you had going on today. You'll make yourself ill if you carry on like this."

Elspeth looked terrible. She'd changed into a clean set of greys. There were deep circles under her eyes and she'd clearly been weeping. She nodded at Devan.

"I don't want to see you up here until dinnertime." said Devan sternly, to both of them.

"Come on," said Neave to her, "We'll get a page to bring some food to my room." Neave's head was starting to hurt and he was hungry.

Elspeth was silent until the page had brought them breakfast and they'd settled down at the table in Neave's room. Finally, she asked "How was she?"

Neave shrugged, "About how you'd expect. She was worried about you."

Elspeth shrugged.

"When she woke up, she took me for an enemy. She struck at me...I guess...did you feel it too?" Neave asked carefully.

Elspeth nodded, her chin trembling, "Is that what she went through?" she whispered, her eyes filled with tears, "I..." she couldn't finish.

"Elspeth, sshh." said Neave tiredly, "You need sleep. Finish your food. We can talk about this later."

Elspeth nodded and they finished without speaking. Elspeth took the dishes and set them outside Neave's door for a servant to pick up, then she stopped at the door, "I'll be at the salle before dinner. Will you be there?"

Neave nodded, she turned away and tiredly walked off down the hallway. He watched her until she turned the corner. With relief he shut the door, throwing the lock.

It was late afternoon when Kyldathar woke him, :Gwena wants to know if you'll talk to Elspeth. She's not doing well.:

:I'll talk to her. Let me clean up first.: Neave replied.

Elspeth didn't look well. She wasn't at the salle, she was with her Companion in the Field.

"Hello." she said as he drew close. "Did you sleep?"

"Yes, did you?"

She turned away from Gwena, looking much the same as she had the night after the battle. "No, not much."

Neave reached over and pulled Elspeth into his arms. She held onto him as if she were drowning, "I can't bear what they did to her. I can't." she whispered.

"Shhh. She'll be all right." Neave whispered back, "Devan says she's better, doesn't he?"

Elspeth pushed him away, "That's not what I mean." she turned away again.

Kyldathar came at Neave's mental summons. "Come on, Elspeth. Let's ride." he said, not knowing what else to do.

**

In the next few nights, Neave spent more time sitting with Talia. Rynee said the nightmares were normal. As Talia's body healed, she gained the strength to cope with her grief and fear. It came out in her dreams. Sometimes she woke up crying out Kris' name, sometimes she called for Dirk. When that happened, he would sit with her. Most of the time, it was all she needed. Between he and Rolan, she was sure she wasn't alone.

"Neave..?", she asked one night.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to tell you, thank you, for sitting with me. For everything you've done."

Neave shrugged, "It's no problem. I don't mind." he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Helping Talia eased his guilt. He didn't think he deserved her gratitude, "I know what it's like."

She nodded soberly. Years ago, when they had been students, he'd shared one of his more unsavory memories with her. Ylsa, in an effort to test her theory that Talia's Gift was Empathy had directed him to project the most emotional scene he could at her. It had been one of the memories that he could look at, but Talia understood what had happened to him.

"How did you get over it?" she asked.

He smiled crookedly, shrugged, "I have Kyldathar. And the Heralds. And I run around looking after everyone else until I'm too tired to think."

She smiled back briefly, then looked pensive again.

"Did you know that Kris, Dirk and Ylsa were the first Heralds I ever met?" Neave asked, not sure what prompted him. He didn't think he'd ever told anyone this story.

She shook her head, surprised, "No."

"Hm, I suppose they wouldn't repeat it. I think they were both deeply embarrassed by the whole situation. I really only spoke to Kris." Neave smiled a little, "Poor Kris wasn't at all sure what to do with a traumatized fourteen year old. "

"You?" Talia asked, interested.

"Yes. Looking back on it, I'm fairly certain that he must have argued with Ylsa the whole way there." Neave said, smiling a little at the thought, "But he was the only one who could play, as Ylsa put it, 'the debauched highborn' with any believability." He began telling her the story, beginning with Kira's suicide. She watched his face the whole time, fascinated. All his time learning to use his Gift among the bards had made him a really fine story teller when he put his mind to it.

"But, how did you break your ribs in the first place?" Talia asked when he came to talk about leaving the brothel.

Neave sighed, realizing why he'd brought the story up, "I...had a run in with a high born a little before that." his guilt was bitter in his mouth. He knew suddenly that if he didn't confess it to Talia, he'd never be rid of it. Chances were she'd never forgive him, but he could request long circuits to get him away from Court. She'd never have to look at him again.

She sensed his withdrawal behind his shields, "I'm sorry," she said, misunderstanding, "Don't talk about it, if it upsets you."

He rubbed at the sleeve over the mostly-healed slashes on his forearm and felt himself go white, "No, its not that. It's...Talia, I'm sorry. I never thought that Ancar would..." he realized he was babbling and Talia was looking a little alarmed, His bardic training caught up with him and he realized he needed to just tell the story without living it.

He took a deep breath. Looking back into Talia's face, he said in a measured voice, "Two weeks before Kyldathar came for me, Prince Ancar came to the town. We'd heard some rumors before that about him, but we didn't credit most of them. The first place he came was Garek's."

Talia's eyes were huge.

"The first day or so, it was fairly ordinary stuff." he shrugged, "I don't remember most of it. But Kyril triggered a memory just before the battle...I knew there was something there, but...its just that if I'd said something sooner, you and Kris wouldn't have walked into a trap."

"I don't understand."

"The mages...Ancar had them with him. They were using people to raise power from pain. It was in my head, all the time, but I didn't mention it to anyone. And when I finally did say something, Kris was dead and you..." he couldn't look at her anymore.

Very softly she said, "What did they do to you?"

He sat on the bed with his back to her and pulled up his shirt to show her the scars, "And they broke my ribs." he sat back in his chair.

"Wait," she said slowly, "Kyril...just before the battle...he said he'd gotten some intelligence that the mages raised power from death--that we could track the mages through pain. That came from you?"

He nodded, looking at the candle on the table. Waiting for her to ask him to leave. She would be angry, he was sure. He waited for her to tightly tell him to find Elspeth or Rynee.

"I'd wondered where that came from." she said. "It made all the difference, you know. Grif and Davan couldn't get through the mage's protections alone. But I could track him down. Lead them there."

Neave looked at her, finally. She didn't look angry. She looked sad and a little tired, "Listen," she said, "What happened to Kris and me. No one's responsible for it except Ancar. All right?" she reached out her hand to touch his. "We had warning days before, that things weren't right. We just kept doing what made sense--Ancar had been planning this for far too long and far too well. Please don't blame yourself."

Neave nodded, unconvinced.

Talia smiled, a little "Rynee's awfully clever, you know." she said seemingly apropos of nothing. She sniffed, trying to hold back tears, "I keep blaming myself for Kris...and here she's got me telling you what she's been trying to tell me." she bent her head to her hands, "It isn't anyone's fault but Ancar's, Neave." the last few words were said between sobs as he reached out to hold her.

This time it was she that brushed timidly against his shields. He opened them a little cautiously, not quite sure what she was about. He was so much more used to Mindspeakers.

There was uncomplicated friendship in her sending, and gratitude. There was no forgiveness, because there had never been any offense. In her eyes he had done everything he could. Everything a Herald could be asked to do.

In turn, because she was so vulnerable, he glimpsed her fears of never being whole again. Of things never being right with her. He sent back his confidence that she would heal, that she wouldn't feel this way forever.

Eventually, Talia's healing body demanded more sleep and she dozed off in Neave's arms. Most unusually, Neave fell asleep too.

It was sometime later when Kyldathar woke Neave up, :Chosen?: she said, :Don't startle, you'll hurt Talia. Rynee's coming in:

Neave was glad that Kyldathar had warned him. Otherwise he might have jumped when he heard the footsteps at the door. Instead he carefully helped the sleeping woman lay down.


	21. Chapter 21

Elspeth took dinner with the Court once each week. Neave knew that she only did it because it was expected. If the Healers and her duties had allowed, she would have stayed every minute with Talia. Neave began to find himself taking care of Elspeth as well as Talia, making sure she slept and ate.

They kept meeting in the salle in the afternoons, where she seemed to take out most of her frustration. Her sparring held a contained anger. Sometimes when he came in she would be throwing knives at the target as if it were her worst enemy. Maybe she was visualizing it as Ancar.

It was about two weeks from the night when Talia had struck at them with her gift. Elspeth's sleep had been disturbed since then, Neave heard her tossing around most nights. Sometimes she'd wake up and they'd talk about small things. He learned quite a bit about Elspeth in those conversations, however there seemed to be things she wanted to confide, but was hesitant to. He knew she was putting on a brave face for Talia.

He didn't like to push her too much, but it was as though she was getting more anxious rather than less, "Elspeth?" he asked her one evening after Rynee had left. Talia was sleeping easily for once, "How are you doing with all this?"

She looked up from the letter she was reading, "I'm fine." she shrugged.

"I'd be surprised if you were, actually." he said, "Nobody's fine right now. And after the other night..." he let the sentence trail off.

She paled.

"How much did you get from her?" he asked as gently as he could.

She put down the letter, "I've been trying not to think about it. I..." she trailed off, "How much did you...?"

"It was pretty bad." he admitted, "She thought I was one of those swine. She threw what she was dreaming about at me...about Kris being dead and being in Ancar's dungeon." he paused for a moment, swallowed, "And what happened to her there. Kyldathar pulled me out pretty quickly though."

Elspeth wrapped her arms around herself as though she was chilled, although the night was so warm they didn't even have a fire going. "That's what I caught. Gwena wasn't so fast. It took her a longer. I--the Healers don't want to talk to me about what happened. I understand but..." she looked at him, pleading for something, "Neave, she wasn't just having a nightmare. She was remembering, wasn't she? _That's exactly what happened to her." _

Elspeth said the last shrilly, more loudly than she meant to. She clapped her hand over her mouth and looked worriedly at the door. After a moment, there was no sound from the bedroom, so she continued more quietly, "I knew what happened...I'm not stupid...but " her voice dropped to a whisper, "Rynee keeps telling me I have to be careful not to upset her with what I'm feeling. She wouldn't even let me stay with her alone. I feel like a fool. Nothing really happened to me but I feel like...I don't know." she wiped her face with her sleeve.

"Elspeth, a hell of a lot's happened in the last few weeks. Gods! You're Regent until Selenay gets back, you're looking after Talia all the time, you're meeting with the Council every day. Of course you feel dreadful." he said.

She shook her head violently, "Its not just that." she looked at Neave speculatively, "Can I tell you something? Herald to Herald? And you won't repeat it?"

"Of course." He was taken aback that she felt she had to ask.

It must have shown on his face a little, because she blushed and said, "It's just that, I'd be really embarrassed if anyone else knew." she went redder, "Mother and Talia know, but I wouldn't want anyone else to. Talia and I argued the night before she and Kris left."

Neave nodded, "I'd heard that"

Elspeth smiled bitterly, "But, I imagine you didn't hear about what."

"No."

"I'd had a-a... well-- an encounter. With one of the younger courtiers." Her blush looked almost painful, "He was flattering...he said he loved me. Talia caught us together in the hay barn. Turns out the boy was hoping to get into the throne by way of my breeches. And Lord Orthallen was encouraging him. To make it so that I would either have to take this boy as consort or wed Ancar. And then I don't know..maybe have Mother assassinated."

"So what happened?" Neave asked.

"Talia found out. She came in like an avenging angel or something." Elspeth smiled sheepishly, "I didn't know she could be scary. She pulled the boy and me into a link so I _saw _what he was up to." she shuddered, "Then she told him to get back to his father's holding or else he'd never sleep again."

"So, what did you argue about?" Neave was not sure what Elspeth had to be angry about if Talia had prevented her from making a bad mistake.

"My pride mostly," admitted Elspeth quietly, "I felt like such a fool. I'd started hanging out with that boy and the others because I was feeling rebellious, I guess. Since Talia got back, things were different between us. She had more duties and not much time for me, I felt like. I started talking to that bastard Orthallen. He made it seem like...well, he made some of the more petty things I was thinking seem less so. He introduced me to Corby and the rest."

"Wait. Lord Corby's son?" Neave winced involuntarily.

"Yes, you know him?" asked Elspeth.

"I nearly broke his arm once." Neave shuddered, "I pulled him off a serving maid. His father wanted to have me on charges. Glad to hear Talia dealt with him. He's a complete bastard."

Elspeth sighed and nodded seriously, "I've heard that he was taking liberties with some of the servants."

"I'm sorry, now, that I didn't do more than break his arm." said Neave mildly, "Beating him to a bloody pulp has appeal."

Elspeth smiled a little, "You're always so calm. I see why Rynee wanted you up here. You make me think of what Alberich must have been like when he young."

Neave smiled back, "Maybe. I know I don't inspire fear like Alberich does."

"I think you could." Elspeth said, still smiling. "If you wanted too." after a moment she turned serious again, "I felt so guilty after we argued. And then she was gone. I was certain I could make it up to her after this whole state visit business was finished. And then, all of this happened."

"It's been hard."

Elspeth nodded, her face tight, "What they did to Talia...when she...it was like it was happening to me. I know it wasn't real, but...I..." she sniffed. Took a huge breath and stopped.

Neave had been afraid of that. Kyldathar was so accustomed to pulling him out of nightmares that he hadn't had time to get too far into it. Perhaps his own familiarity with nightmares helped him sort out himself from Talia as well. Elspeth had no such history. He didn't know a whole lot about her actually, but he was pretty certain that this was her first experience with horror of this type, "You should talk to Rynee." he said, "She'll help you sort it out."

"You don't think I'm being foolish?" she asked tentatively.

"Gods, no." He said positively.

Elspeth smiled a little again, "Thank you. I was afraid no one else would understand--they'd just think I was being a stupid child with an overactive imagination."

"Trust me, Rynee won't." Neave said, "But how does this relate to your lordling suitor?"

"It's just...After that...and what's happened..." Again, she seemed to be pleading with Neave for something, but he couldn't understand what, "I never...but now with a war on..." Neave was lost as to what she was talking about now, so he waited patiently for her to find the words.

"If there were some foreign prince that could buy us an alliance against Ancar, Mother would have to allow it." she said shakily, "I'd be sold off like a common..." she couldn't seem to say the word, "It's worse than before. And I have a better idea why, now. But it doesn't make it any easier. And how am I supposed to trust any man when I _know_ any of them could be like Corby or Ancar?"

He was rather speechless, not for the first time he wished he was better with words. The bards could teach him to tell a story, but that wasn't the same, "I'm sorry, Elspeth. I don't know what to say--I wish...I don't know." he finished rather lamely.

"You seem to be very unaffected by the whole thing." she said acidly, "I suppose being male makes it easier for you. You don't have to worry about being sold off as someone's whore."

That hurt. Neave felt like she'd punched him in the stomach. He gazed out the window at the dark sky. Very carefully he drew a tight shield around his mind, not wanting Talia to get any of this. He counted to ten, rubbing his hand over the healed slashes on his forearm. He counted to ten again before he replied, "You don't have to be female," he said very quietly, "Just helpless. With nothing else to trade."

He still gazed out the window so he wouldn't have to see her face, "What--what do you mean by that?" she said, sounding shocked.

"I mean, Your Highness," he said archly, "That before I was Chosen, _I _was a whore. And I was, in fact, sold off to the Heralds who rescued me. Understand, I am quite distressed by current circumstances. If I appear unaffected, it is only because I am trying to cope in my own way." he spoke most formally because he was not going to yell at the Heir outside of the bedroom of the Queen's Own.

He stood, still without looking at her. He brushed off his tunic and picked up a sheaf of paper and his drawing things from the desk, "I think it's best if I leave you to your rest." he didn't want to cope with her reaction. He went to go sit with the sleeping Talia.

It took him a long time to calm down. He was glad that the bardic training had taught him to dampen his projection so well or else poor Talia would be having a reaction headache trying to keep him out.

**

"Neave?" Talia said softly.

Neave woke out of his doze in the chair all at once, as he always did. The early morning light was coming in through the window. Talia had evidentially slept solidly through the night. He smiled at her tiredly, "Good morning."

She smiled too, "Could you help me sit up? I think its almost time for breakfast." it was the longest really good sleep she'd had since she'd been home. She looked much better for it.

He helped her sit. Elspeth tapped lightly on the door, "Do you want us to help you dress and things or shall we wait for the Healers?"

"Actually," Talia said, smiling gently at them, "If you both don't mind playing lady's maid, I'd be grateful."

Elspeth seemed a little subdued while they helped Talia. She seemed to be furtively observing Neave.

The Healers arrived right after Talia's breakfast was brought up. This morning it was Myrim, Devan and Rynee. As Elspeth and Neave were leaving, he saw Elspeth whisper something to Rynee who nodded. He sighed inwardly, relieved that Elspeth was going to take his advice.

He was walking tiredly back to his room when he heard soft hurried footsteps behind him. He turned to see Elspeth, "Wait!" she said "Would you mind having breakfast with me again?"

He nodded curtly, "All right. Common room or my room?" he didn't want to go to her room. If she wanted to give him a dressing down for speaking to her the way he had, he wanted to be on either home or neutral ground. She was technically a Trainee and therefore had no such authority, but she was also currently Regent and that made telling her off a very grey area indeed.

"Your room, if you don't mind." she said.

Neave was glad he'd slept a little last night. He didn't have the urge to fall into his bed exhausted that he often did. When he'd closed the door behind the page who brought them food, he hesitated over the lock, then threw it. He didn't want any of the pages coming in looking for him in the middle of this.

As soon as he sat down at the table, Elspeth looked at him and said, "Neave, I'm very sorry I spoke to you the way I did. I was thoughtless. And mean." she sounded as if she'd been considering what to say all night.

"It's all right." He was surprised at her tone, "I think I may have been a little over-sensitive. I guess I assume that people have heard." He shrugged. He had expected to have to argue her around to understanding.

"No. It's not." she sighed, "I did sort of know. I mean, I knew you were from Hardorn and you'd come from a pretty rough background. Skif told me that you'd come from worse than him. And he said, when I asked, that your mother was a-a prostitute. I just really never thought about it before. I sat up most of last night thinking about it. That's why Rynee's had you looking after Talia isn't it? And why it doesn't seem to upset you as much as everyone else."

Neave had also had time to consider the conversation. In some ways it was a wonderful sign that what he had been had not occurred to Elspeth. Clearly, it was as Ylsa had said it would be, no one would ever know what he had been, unless _he _chose to tell them. On the other hand, perhaps this _was _the reason people like himself were Chosen. So that people like Elspeth could hear what the lives of the least of their subjects could be like.

"It was a long time ago." He said quietly, "And most days it doesn't bother me."

"Except when someone says nasty things. like I just did." Elspeth blushed. "I-I'd been wondering why you were so--I don't know--nonchalant about helping Talia with everything. I mean dressing her and helping her to the privy and...everything. I sort of assumed it was because you're used to helping the Healers, but..." Elspeth let the sentence trail off into a question.

Neave shrugged again.

The silence became a little uncomfortable. They both ate, trying to think what to say next.

"Have you arranged to meet with Rynee?" asked Neave finally.

Elspeth nodded, "When she finishes with Talia, she said she'd send a page to find me."

"You told her you'd be here?" Neave said,

"I hope you don't mind." she was looking shamefaced, "I hoped you'd talk with me."

**

When Neave saw Elspeth that evening, she looked better, less strained. She must have spent a considerable amount of time with Rynee and rearranged her meeting schedule, because she didn't appear in the salle before dinner.

When Talia had been settled for the night, Neave asked her, "How are you now?"

She smiled with less effort than she'd needed of late, "Better. Rynee is good. You were right, she didn't think I was being foolish."

"Good."

"Can I ask you something?" she said humbly.

"You can ask. I won't guarantee an answer." he replied.

"You and Christa, you were pretty close. Did you love her?"

That was not what he was expecting to be asked, "Yes, I loved her. I miss her like hell. Do you mean, was I _in _love with her?"

Elspeth nodded.

"No." Neave had thought long and hard about this, "Elspeth, I think I'm one of those Heralds for whom my Companion will always be the first lady of my heart. Actually, Christa had almost as many lovers as Destria. We laughed like hell when she got assigned as Christa's counselor. Christa was hoping to get Coroc. No, Christa was a good friend and a good lover, but it wasn't anything that we ever meant to be permanent. Why?"

Elspeth blushed a deep crimson, but she kept her eyes on his, "You've been so good to me. I thought maybe...I like you a lot."

Some pieces began to fall into place. Like the strange pleading looks and some of the things she said in their nightly conversations. The way she kept showing up at the salle right about when he would.

"Oh." he said, abruptly he realized that she was looking for reassurance that things between men and women could be all right.

She looked away, "I'm sorry. I'm being stupid." her eyes were swimming. He realized abruptly that she thought she was being rejected.

He liked her quite a lot. He hadn't considered her as a lover before, but now that she'd brought it up..."Elspeth, I just hadn't thought about it." he said gently, "I'm stupid that way." He moved closer to her and kissed her on the forehead.

She tilted her head up to kiss him on the lips.

He returned it, then he said, "Not here." he smiled down at her, "I'm on duty, even if _you're _supposed to be resting. Maybe in the morning?"


	22. Chapter 22

Talia threatened to make Elspeth give Neave a part in Talia and Dirk's wedding. They were alone and Talia's eyes glinted mischievously as she said "After all, I think you've been partnering Elspeth in more than dancing lately."

Neave, who never blushed at the bawdiest of remarks, felt his face flame at Talia's comment. She didn't seem annoyed, that was good, "I...yes." he admitted, knowing there was no point denying it, "She's a good friend." he said, a little worried that Talia might think he'd somehow seduced Elspeth into his bed.

Talia smiled slyly, "She's been in a much better mood. You must be enjoying yourselves."

Neave said nothing, just returned the smile tentatively, feeling his cheeks get hotter.

Talia giggled. Neave thought that it was the first real laugh he'd heard from her since she returned home. He relaxed, clearly Talia didn't mind.

"Well, she couldn't have picked anyone more discreet." Talia said, she reached over and took Neave's hand, "It's nice to know that things can be all right. Just be careful, she _is _the Heir and..."

It was Neave's turn to chuckle, "Believe me, I never forget it. I have no interest in getting caught in Court politics or Court gossip. I have a pretty Bardic Apprentice that's been coming to my room."

Talia looked confused.

"Talia, nobody ever looks past what makes sense to them. Elspeth has a set of Russets I borrowed for her. No one's in residence at my end of the Herald's Wing who actually knows her and the servants just see the uniform." Kyldathar had suggested this, as he was known for his connection with the bards, "The young lady I acquired them from had just earned her Scarlets and was leaving. She thinks I've got a highborn lover in the Court. All the Bards have it that Heralds bed the Court ladies..."

Talia giggled again, "You're more devious than Skif."

He grinned, "Now, as you love me, sister, please don't give me a part in a wedding. "

**

Dirk and Skif returned just before classes restarted at the Collegium. Neave was reassigned from "Talia watch" to teaching a class in Hardornen. It was gratifying to see the way Talia lit up whenever Dirk was in the room.

Selenay returned from the border as the leaves were beginning to fall. With gratitude, Elspeth relinquished the role of Regent. After the Court Ceremony where Elspeth officially welcomed the Queen back to her throne, Elspeth shared her relief with Neave. She told him that she would never understand how her mother been able to take on the role of Queen when Selenay had been just a year older than herself. "It explains an awful lot about my mother" Elpeth said thoughtfully.

Neave was privately pleased by Elspeth's reluctance to power, it seemed to indicate that she understood it.

**

The wedding was magnificent. By agreement, Elspeth didn't dance with Neave any more than she danced with any other Herald. In fact, as usual, Skif was making himself the center of gossip by claiming many more dances with Elspeth than was strictly wise.

Before Neave slipped off to find the Herald's gathering, he placed his wedding gift on the table with the others. By tradition, wedding gifts to Heralds were small. They didn't need the kind of gifts people who were beginning households would need, they were more much more personal and portable. Many Heralds carried small metal frames, no more than a palm length wide, that fit into saddle bags to hold portraits of loved ones. Neave had three of his drawings framed this way. One of Talia, one of Dirk and one of Kris.

**

Neave went to the Sovvan memorial gathering. There were more people this year than usual. Neave had come to the memorial, when he was in Haven, since the year Ylsa died. The newly dead were honored and the roll of names chanted by the priests.

Tradition had it that anything burned in the Sovvan fire was sent to the loved one it was meant for. Christa had wanted Neave to finish a portrait of her when they got back from their internships. This he tossed into the fire.

As he turned away, he nearly ran into Dirk who had also tossed something into the fire. Talia sat on the ground not far away, eyes streaming.

Dirk gave Neave an awkward one armed hug, "Talia told me how much you helped her while I was gone. Thank you." Dirk said softly, " Come sit with us?"

Neave nodded. Often, because he came to these things alone, he would sit alone, not necessarily by choice, but rather because he didn't want to intrude on anyone else. He never completely got over his shyness, even with other Heralds.

Talia gave him a tremulous smile through her tears. The three of them sat quietly together, listening to the priest and watching the fire burn down.

**

Winter was very quiet that year. Even the Court Midwinter Celebrations were said to be subdued. Neave wouldn't know, he avoided Court when he could.

Quite a few Heralds stayed at the Palace this year. Some of them went to the Court celebration, but the servants invited the ones who didn't down to the servant's hall for their celebration afterwards. That was fun. Keren and Sherril were there, as was Myste

Neave thought it was a shame that Elspeth was trapped at Court. The only thing he would have liked to have seen was the entire Court standing to applaud Talia when she walked in on her own feet for the first time. It would be some time before she was up to anything strenuous, but now the undertone of gossip that she was crippled forever would stop.

**

"So, how long do you think you'll be gone?" Elspeth sat on his bed next to him. Neave had wanted to tell her about his new assignment privately. He knew she was going to be unhappy.

"It's a long term assignment." he said quietly, "We're going to leave around spring equinox. I don't expect to be back much before the winter after next."

"That's longer than a circuit." she said slowly.

"I'm not going to be on circuit." Neave took a deep breath, "They're sending me to Karse."

"Karse!?" sputtered Elspeth, "As-as a spy?" She was white as chalk.

Neave shrugged, "Yes."

"Do you know what they do to Heralds if they find them?" she squeaked.

He looked at her very seriously, "Yes. Herald Eldan has been briefing me."

Why you?" she demanded, "Did-did Mother find out about...?"

"Us?" He smiled, Elspeth had been terribly worried about how her mother might react if she had found out about them sharing blankets, "I don't think Selenay would have concocted something like this just to get rid of me. No. Alberich suggested me."

"But, why?" she wailed

"There's a lot of strange reports coming from Karse and someone needs to go find out what's true and whats not. I look Hardornen and there's a lot of Hardornen refugees in Karse at the moment. Besides, Alberich says I still I speak Karsite like I learned it in a Hardornen whorehouse."


	23. Chapter 23

The night's fog and drizzle was a blessing, although it made walking over these trails treacherous. Even the hill shepherds were staying close to home, for fear of losing themselves in the weather.

:Can you hear me yet?: Neave Mindcalled, hoping he hadn't walked the wrong way in the dark. To most people, it would have been like trying to navigate with a blindfold on. Neave had found a solution. His Farsight wasn't good for most of the usual purposes, but he had figured out that it gave him better night vision if he invoked it and unfocused his eyes just _so. _The effect was as though pale gleams of moonlight shone on the trees and grass.

More than once he had avoided possible ambushes using this. Animals and people glimmered more brightly than plants. It was a passive enough use of his power that neither the Karsite Sun priests nor Ancar's mages ever spotted him. He knew this because he would be dead several times over if that hadn't been the case.

:Chosen!: Kyldathar called joyfully,

Neave heaved a sigh of relief. He was very close to the border, then. :I think I'm a candlemark away. Is there anyone with you? And did you bring any food?:

:No. I came up alone--But there's food in my bags and a clean uniform.:

:A uniform? I'm being recalled?: Neave's heart lifted.

:Yes, love: She was as pleased as he. :New orders are in the bags too. They want to hear your report in person. We're going back to Haven.:

The prospective trek through the woods seemed much shorter than it had a moment ago.

When he finally saw her through the drizzle, she positively glowed in his Sight.

:I've missed you, Chosen.: She said as he stumbled down the wet hillside.

He hugged her around her neck. Pulled himself into her saddle, :Come on, can we go somewhere dry?: He wasn't cold yet, he'd been keeping himself warm with walking, but he'd soon get that way if he stopped and didn't change his clothes.

:There's a Way Station about a candlemark's ride away. Or the Guard Post which is a little more than that. Do you want to eat? There's dry rations there.:

Neave's hunger had subsided some time ago. He knew the hunger would be back again soon, but he thought he'd be better if he made himself some soup or porridge before he attempted anything as substantial as road rations. :No, I'm tired. Just go to the Way station if its closest, love.: Neave found a cloak folded up behind the saddle behind him and put it around him, pulling up the hood against the light rain.

:If you want to doze,: Kyldathar said, :Go ahead, I'll wake you if needs be.:

Neave was tired enough that he could have fallen asleep standing up. He tucked the cloak around him and crossed his arms. After he closed his eyes, it seemed less than a moment before Kyldathar was waking him, :We're there.:

Neave jerked, a little surprised, he didn't mean to fall that deeply asleep.

Instead of the Way Station, they were outside the Guard Post. Someone was at his knee. The person had a white uniform, although Neave couldn't make out the face. "Neave? You must be absolutely exhausted." the woman was saying. "Come on, let's get you inside."

"I-I'm all right." he'd gotten cold from falling asleep and he was shivering. The cloak helped a lot, but his clothes were still wet. At last, out of the rain in the warmth of the stable, Neave swung out of the saddle.

One of the stable hands came over, "I'll take care of yer lady, there, Milord Herald."

:Go on, Chosen. You're tired.:

Neave thanked the man and didn't protest when the Herald took him by the elbow and led him into a room just off of the stable.

A fire was lit in the hearth and hot food sat on the hob. He finally took a proper look at the other Herald, "D-Destria." he said. He still shivered and now his teeth were chattering.

She smiled, took his wet cloak, "Get out of those clothes before you freeze to death." she said. She went back out into the stable closing the door behind her, while he started stripping off his soaked clothes. She came back in a moment with a clean set of clothes and a few towels, "Your Companion told mine that she was bringing you here about half a candlemark ago."

Neave took the towels and dried off his wet hair before pulling on the dry shirt. In a moment he was in the first set of clothes that was both clean and dry that he'd worn in three months. Destria walked in and out a few times, taking the wet things and bringing his bags for him.

He looked over to the food on the hob, hot soup, brown bread and tea. Kyldathar must have caught his thought about food and brought him here. And told Destria's Companion. He filled the bowl and sat down right on the hearth with his back to the fire.

:Thank you, love.: he said to Kyldathar.

:I assumed you wouldn't mind. You were really asleep.:

Destria came in again and sat down on the chair opposite the fire. She didn't say anything for a few minutes.

Neave ate his first bowl of soup without tasting it, then moved on to the loaf of bread.

"If you don't mind me saying," said Destria at last, "You look like a scarecrow. When was your last decent meal?"

Neave smiled wryly as he poured himself tea, adding a generous amount of honey and cream, "Two, maybe three days ago." he didn't tell her that it had been that long since he'd eaten at all. He'd been trying to avoid being seen by Ancar's press gangs near the border. Given that it was so close to when he was supposed to rendezvous with Kyldathar, he figured he wouldn't risk stealing food.

Truth to tell, the average Hardornen didn't have enough to steal. Ancar was doing his best to bleed his small holders dry. If he wasn't pressing the able bodied young men into soldiering, he was taxing the landsmen so heavily that they were barely left enough to keep body and soul together. The last winter had seen grain shortages in the border towns, not due to a bad harvest, but exorbitant taxes to support Ancar's war on Valdemar.

Destria winced little at his answer, "I'm sorry you came in so late, I'm not sure where to put you. They're pretty full up in the barracks."

Neave shrugged, "Give me a clean bedroll and I'll sleep in the stable with Kyldathar. I've been sleeping in ditches for weeks, it'll be positively luxurious by comparison."

"Are you sure?" Destria asked.

"Oh yes," Neave affirmed. He hadn't seen Kyldathar for three months and then it had only been to pass on written reports and get some supplies from her. It was far too dangerous to take a Companion into either Karse or Hardorn right now. In Hardorn, Neave had seen several ordinary white horses put down just because of their color. People were even butchering light gray horses on the off chance they might be taken for Companions. As a result they'd been apart for far too long, often unable to keep in touch even mentally. Neave was happy for the excuse to stay with her.

Destria walked out and returned after a few minutes with blankets. While she was gone, Neave finished up the loaf of bread and most of the soup, feeling full for the first time in ages.

"Thank you," he said gratefully.

"We'll talk in the morning," said Destria, "You look like you're going to fall over."

Neave smiled, nodded in agreement. He walked back out to the stable. Kyldathar was settled in the loose box. He wrapped up in a couple of blankets and lay down with his head on her shoulder.

It was light when he next opened his eyes.

:Chosen?: said Kyldathar softly, :There's someone here.: her mind voice was overlaid with the reassuring sense that the "someone" was harmless. Otherwise, Neave was likely to greet them with six inches of steel at their throat.

"Herald Neave?" called a woman's voice. Not Destria, although she sounded familiar. She tapped on the half door of the loose box "It's gone noon. I wondered if you wanted something to eat?"

Neave stood up, rubbing his eyes and stretching, "That sounds like a wonderful idea." he said. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and looked properly at the green clad woman, "Healer Deena?" he exclaimed.

She grinned broadly, "I wasn't sure you'd remember me." she said.

Neave grinned, "You look just the same." it was true, her hair was graying now, and she was perhaps a little heavier, but she was exactly the same otherwise.

"Oh, go on with you." she laughed, "_You _have greatly changed, my lad. I wouldn't have known you if Destria hadn't told me who was out here. I'd've never thought you were that same poor scrap that Ylsa brought in." she looked at him critically, "Although you look like you need some feeding up again."

"I think I do." he agreed.

"Well, they're giving second call for the noon meal."

Neave pulled on his boots and followed Deena down the hall. Apparently there were enough stationed at the Guard post now that meals were being served in shifts. No wonder Destria worried where to put him. The Guardsmen were probably sleeping in shifts too.

He collected some food and slid in beside a Guardsman, Deena sat on his other side. He was starving now. Deena watched him eat with a sort of proprietary air, "Been on short rations for a while, then?" she asked.

He nodded. He assumed he wasn't the first Herald to turn up here looking like a starved rat, given that no one was taking much notice of him, other than the occasional sympathetic glance.

"You haven't changed that much." observed Deena, "You still don't talk a lot."

He smiled and shrugged, "I don't have a lot to say at the moment."

The Guardsman beside him stood up to leave and Destria sat down with her own food, "Thought you were going to sleep all day." she said lightly, "The Commander wasn't happy when I told him where I'd put you. He reckoned we could have found you a cot or turfed someone out of their bed."

Neave shook his head, "I was fine. And I won't put someone else out of their bed."

Destria smiled, "I told him that."

"As I recall, the last time you were here, you slept out with your Companion, mostly." said Deena.

Neave smiled again, a little sheepish, nodded.

"Oh?" Destria asked, "When were you out here last?"

"When I was Chosen. I had a couple broken ribs and it was winter. Kyldathar wouldn't have been able to get me back to Haven the shape I was in. Ylsa, Dirk and Kris brought me back. It's got to be almost eight years now." Neave replied, adding it up in his head.

Deena nodded, "You should have seen his Companion. She all but dragged Ylsa off with her teeth. They decided that it would be better to go as Guardsmen rather than Heralds. The whole time they were finding uniforms that fit and horses, that Companion paced back and forth in front of the gate. If she'd had hands she would have been wringing them. And I would swear Ylsa and that Companion were arguing about Ylsa's plan. Any of the Guard who were here that day who might have thought that Companions were nothing more than clever beasts got over that notion."

"She did argue with Ylsa." Neave said, "She was upset that Ylsa wouldn't let her come."

"So they brought you back from Hardorn?" Destria asked, "Did you have to leave your family?"

"I didn't really have a family. There was a woman that had sort of adopted me, but she wasn't related to me. Oddly enough, she was Valdemaran."

"Did you see her again?" Destria asked, interested

"No." Neave had actually looked for Mara in his guise as a Hardornen refugee. Garek was still there, but all the girls were different. "She said she was going to take a caravan to Jakatha. I hope she did."

The three of them were quiet for a moment. They all knew how bad things had gotten on the Hardornen side of the border. Refugees carried terrible tales.

"So, where are you bound for now?" asked Deena to change the subject.

"Back to Haven." replied Neave.

Later that night, Destria and Neave sat in the cramped room off the stable, it was just a closet with a hearth really. It was used for warming up after coming in from outside and the stable hands kept their food hot or boiled their tea kettles there. It was the only one that had anything like privacy. Destria was sleeping on a cot in the Healer's quarters, it would have been difficult to talk there.

Neave planned to leave early the next morning, his guessed his report wasn't likely to create any great changes in tactics, but it seemed that all intelligence was important. For the moment, he was enjoying the chance to clean up and get another couple of meals.

"It's good to see you back on duty." Neave told Destria. The last time he'd seen her, she been just getting out of bed and walking around the Palace grounds

Destria smiled a little sadly, "They've got me here to relay messages because I'd be no damned good if I had to fight." she rotated her right arm slowly, "The arm's still stiff and I can't swing a sword anymore." Neave had noticed that she was doing many tasks left handed. Her right hand was scarred and clumsy. "My Mindspeaking is strong enough that I can reach Kyril from here though. If we weren't on a war footing, I guess they'd have me in Haven or as a courier. As it is, they want a strong Mindspeaker at all the border Guardposts."

"So, have they officially declared a war yet?"

"No, its still just border skirmishes," Destria sighed, "Its unnerving really. And the refugees who come over the border..." she shuddered "Their stories give me nightmares."

Neave nodded, thinking about some of the more nightmarish things he'd seen.

"How is it, over there?" Destria asked. As a fellow Herald, she had the right to ask about his mission.

"Bad. They're not going to like what I have to report. Looks like Ancar's trying to put together a real army and doesn't care if he takes every last able man to do it. I don't know how the hell he expects to train them, but perhaps the lash can train them up faster." he shuddered now. "They're coming down mercilessly on anyone who's seen as disloyal. A lot of the ordinary people believe what Ancar's telling them. If they haven't seen the atrocities themselves, they're hard to credit." Neave stopped to drink his tea, "A lot of the people are blaming us for the grain shortages. Casting us as raiders and thieves."

"What do you mean atrocities?" asked Destria slowly.

Neave sighed heavily, "If someone raises a voice against Ancar or his tactics, I've seen them flogged in the public square. I saw one man, used to be a village headman, pressed to death under a board that they piled with stones. There's one or two villages where everyone's just...gone. You find the bodies of women and children, but the men have disappeared. I've seen more than a few women who never wished to raise a sword get pretty skillful, pretty quickly though. They're fleeing this way, if at all possible."

Destria was looking a little ill, "This is the type of thing we've been hearing from refugees."

Neave nodded, "I think Ancar's gotten rid of any of the officers who might have opposed him. His methods have become more extreme lately."

"When do you plan to leave?" asked Destria.

"First light." Neave yawned, standing up, "I must sleep. I've been shorting myself for weeks."

Destria clasped Neave's hand with her good one, kissed him on the cheek, "Go get some sleep then. You need it."

**

It was long before first light when Kyldathar woke him. He ate a hasty meal and they were on the road. They pushed hard to make it to Haven, only stopping at Kyldathar's insistence that Neave stop to eat at inns along the way. His Whites were about two sizes too big for him.


	24. Chapter 24

"Have you seen his army with your own eyes?" the Lord Marshall asked.

Neave sat in the Council chamber facing the full Council for the first time in his Heraldic career. He hoped he was conveying the full import of what he had seen. Talia and Selenay were eager for their spies to give their reports in person to do just this, Neave understood. The further from the border one came, the more distant and small the events on the Hardornen border seemed. Half the Council seemed to have forgotten the fact that their first battle with Ancar had been won more by good luck than anything.

Neave nodded, "I've seen enough. He has press gangs all over the country side. I saw one of the outposts where they were training some of them."

The Council members shifted uneasily in their chairs, "But, it's harvest time. Surely he hasn't...he _can't _have conscripted men in those numbers." Lady Cathan said, "His people will be facing starvation next winter."

"Frankly, Lady, I don't think he cares." said Neave quietly, "Many of them are just short of starving now, and he's got a fair number of them blaming us. If there's no wheat for the merchants to buy, they don't know it's because Ancar is leaving no one to work the farms."

Selenay and Talia exchanged a dark glance, "Have you any more information on his mages?" asked Selenay.

Neave nodded, "There's a lot of tales around, but it seems that Ancar is putting most of his efforts into an army of men and steel this time. He does have some of his mages stationed with the army. I'm not sure what they're there for though, apart from putting the fear of the gods into the men. The things I saw for myself were all accomplished with ordinary men and muscle."

Neave outlined for the Council some of the more extreme things he had seen. Finally Talia stood, "I believe Councilors, that we need to make a decision on this now. Tonight. I don't think we have any more time for gathering intelligence." Talia turned to address Neave, "Do you agree, Herald?"

"Yes, from what I saw, we need to make our plans as soon as may be." Neave replied.

Talia sat again and Selenay rose, "Thank you, for your report Herald Neave." she looked ready to say something else, but Talia seemed to nudge Selenay in the leg. Selenay sat gracefully and nodded at Neave.

Neave rose at the dismissal and bowed himself out of the Council chamber, grateful that he needn't stay at what looked to be an all night meeting.

The hall was quiet. Because of the lateness of the hour, the pages had been dismissed from the Council and Herald Trainees had taken their places. The Palace was subdued and had the attitude of waiting.

As soon as he and Kyldathar checked in, the Council had wanted to hear his report. He'd bolted a quick bite and changed his clothes before going to the meeting that had already been in progress.

Now that he was done with the ordeal of reporting to the entire Council, he was tired and hungry again. Two weeks of inn food hadn't restored all the weight he'd lost. For the better part of the past two years, he had lived with the same constant hunger he'd lived with as a child. Since getting back, he had returned to the same habit of eating he remembered from his first days in Haven. The availability of food after scarcity caused him to want to eat as often as possible. He was careful never to eat to fullness--he'd seen people make themselves sick that way. Rather, he ate small meals as often as he could get them.

It was too late to ask someone to bring him some food, but he thought he'd help himself to something from the kitchens before retiring.

"Neave?" called a voice from behind him.

He turned to see Elspeth. Apparently the Council was taking a recess, otherwise Elspeth would be still stuck there. Other members were filing out as well, talking quietly to each other.

Neave stood until Elspeth caught up with him. She threw her arms around him, "I'm so glad you're back."

He returned the embrace, "It's good to be back." He held her at arms length, "You look amazing in Whites." he said sincerely.

She turned a little pink and giggled.

"Is the Council going to need you back?" Neave asked.

Elspeth sobered and sighed "Yes. We're taking a candlemark for the Councilors to get their wits together before there's a vote. It's likely to be another long session, after that."

Talia came up beside Elspeth, smiled and held her arms out, "Give me a proper greeting now, brother." she said.

Neave hugged her too, pleased that Talia had taken a moment to come see him, "Thank you for saving me in there." he said.

Elspeth looked a little confused but Talia's eyes twinkled, "You Felt like you would have preferred to be on the battle field rather than spend another moment with that many eyes on you. I assumed you'd take Selenay's simple thanks rather than listen to a speech." she said.

Neave smiled and nodded, "I hope it wasn't that obvious." Public speaking had been a most difficult skill for Neave to master. He had finally gotten over his stage fright through the help of a few Bardic friends. They had pointed out that crowds were only ever going to be looking at the uniform, not him and that he should concentrate on that. After that, he'd always thought of his uniform as a kind of shield. This trick had finally enabled him to speak in front of a group without his voice shaking. He never grew to like it though.

Elspeth shook her head "Not to me, it wasn't"

"I think I was the only one who could have noticed." confirmed Talia.

"So, what's the likely plan?" asked Neave. He saw that there were circles under both Talia and Elspeth's eyes and lines of anxiety between Talia's eyebrows. He didn't imagine that any of the other agents in Hardorn had better news than he. The only good news he could pass on to the Council was that Karse was far too embroiled in its own internal strife to take advantage of their precarious situation.

Talia shook her head, "Selenay's going to ask for help from Rethwellan. The only question now is who's going to be the envoy. We're also considering hiring mercenaries, but the Council is against it."

"I can imagine." said Neave, "But, I understand that most other nations do so. Some of the discontent in Hardorn comes from people remembering that Alessandar never used to conscript men. If the regular army wasn't enough, he paid professionals. Most of them seemed to do as good a job as the regulars. At least that's the talk."

"But, fighting for money. What kind of person does that?" asked Elspeth with a shudder. "It seems wrong somehow. And then if we win, what's to stop them from turning against us?" Clearly, Elspeth fell on the side of the Councilors who were against it.

Talia replied, "Eldan seems to think his contact is a trustworthy one, and even his Companion was willing to vouch for this Kerowyn."

Elspeth didn't look convinced, "Yes, but he met her--what? Five years ago? Before she was even made Captain of this group. How much could leadership have changed her? And does this Mercenary Guild's Codes truly bind its members?"

"From what I've heard, it does." put in Neave, "The word was that Ancar put the Guild out of Hardorn because he didn't care for their scruples. I suppose their codes are as binding as any other guild's." He didn't say that, from what he remembered, Guild Mercenaries were fairly welcome customers at Gareck's. They didn't tend to mistreat the girls or even himself. If they were looking to play roughly, they paid accordingly. It was a point of pride that they were _mercenaries_, not brigands.

Like the army regulars, some regiments were better than others, of course, but Guild Mercs were still pounds better than the village toughs who also used to frequent Gareck's. And compared to the Hardornen regulars now...Neave shuddered involuntarily.

"I have to get back," said Talia, she hugged Neave again, "Go get some sleep. You look dead tired."

**

The next day, he slept until well past noon, enjoying a long sleep in a soft bed in a place where he could feel safe. He really hadn't had the sensation of safety since he'd crossed the Karsite border at the beginning of his assignment

Neave had been given a month's leave after his long stint as a spy. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with himself. He had no family to visit, so he had nowhere to go. His plan was to catch up on two years worth of sleep and news.

He woke when he heard envelopes slide under the door. Elspeth sent him a note that she was free for sparring that afternoon. This was also their code for the possiblility of partnering each other more intimately later. She also said that if he didn't feel up to sparring yet, she'd be happy with his company for just dinner.

He wrote a reply saying that sparring, of any sort, would have to wait until his nerves were a little less edgy, but dinner and conversation would be more than welcome. On his way to the bathing room he handed it to a passing page.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N First, I'm wondering which my readers prefer, more frequent updates or longer chapters? Happy to oblige those who tell me their preference, assuming its possible. So here's a shorter update just to give you the idea.**

**I couldn't describe the battle between Ancar's forces and Kerowyn's Skybolts anywhere close to as well as Misty herself, so our story picks up at the end of _By the Sword. _Brief synopsis: Kerowyn, a mercenary captain and her troops have been hired by Valdemar. A contingent of Rethwellen's army led by the Darren the Lord Marshall/Prince of Rethwellan have also been sent. It appeared that Darren's troops would not be enough, but Ancars troops had been spellbound. Darren's mages discovered how to reverse the enchantment and the bespelled troops defected to Darrens side. Curiously, the mages themselves are unable to enter Valdemar. When they do they claim that something unfreindly watches them all the time, driving them nearly mad.**

**In the confusion of the battle, Darren was Chosen by the Companion Jasan. Kerowyn was Chosen by the Companion Sayvil. Kerowyn was struck on the head by one of Ancar's soldiers after the battle had been won. Presuming probably that he was better dead than the prisoner of Valdemar and wanting to take one last enemy with him.**

**Kerowyn possesses a magical sword with the name "Woman's Need" or just "Need" that provides healing to the bearer for anything less than a killing blow (along with doing a few other things).**

**If you want to know more than this, the book is a lot of fun.**

**Anyway, we pick up the story right after Kerowyn's been hit over the head with a mace.**

"Someone get me a Healer!" Eldan barked harshly. Someone dashed off on a Companion to fetch one.

Kerowyn lay in Eldan's arms unconcious, but Darren was reassured. She had woken long enough to say a few words to Eldan before passing out again. Those few words meant that her sword would have the time to Heal her before she could take serious damage to her brain. Darren was not entirely sure all of what Need was capable of, but he knew that the sword was better than any human healer. For a moment he had been afraid that the blow had been a killing one.

Darren backed up to give the gathering group some room. Kero's lieutenant, Shallan came charging over on her own horse. "Captain!" she cried, white as a sheet.

"She's all right, Shallan." said Darren wearily, "I think she'll be all right. She spoke to us. And she has Need."

Shallan relaxed, "I'll go see to the mopping up then, milord." she said curtly, nodding politely to Darren and then to Selenay who had also fallen back to give Eldan and Kerowyn some room.

Selenay looked curious at the exchange between Shallan and Darren, but said nothing. Finally Darren turned back to her. Again, as he had been the moment he had first seen her up close, he was struck dumb by the sight of her.

She had apparently recovered her voice though, "My lord," she said formally, "I seem to owe you my life. And perhaps my kingdom."

All of Darren's eloquence escaped him. "I--yes", he stammered, Since the words were trapped in his throat, he moved to complete the act that had been inturrupted by the attack on Kerowyn. He took Selenay's hand in his and kissed it in his best Courtly manner, "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance." he said recovering his voice by falling back on formality. Selenay's hand trembled in his and he fought the urge to pull the woman into an embrace and kiss her. What on earth was wrong with him? It was perhaps the giddiness of the battle won.

Or perhaps the giddiness of being Chosen. His Companion moved to stand beside him and touch noses with Selenay's Companion. Darren had the distinct feeling that Selenay's Companion was offering congratulations to Jasan.

"It seems, Your Highness, that I am to remain here. Jasan informs me that his Choice has made me a Herald." Jasan hadn't told Darren this in words, but it was as if the knowledge was sliding itself into Darren's mind. A great deal of information was just suddenly _there._ It was the sensation of recalling a long forgotten piece of music, the more he thought about it, the more fragments of it came to him.

Selenay smiled like a sunrise. "And you are most welcome, my lord ..?"

"Oh. My apologies." he returned her smile a little embarrassed, "Prince Darren, Lord Marshall of Rethwellan." Jasan snorted, "Ah. Perhaps I should say former Lord Marshall."

He realized suddenly that he still held her hand. She seemed to realize it at the same moment. She looked down at their clasped hands and turned a little pink, as though she was a young village maiden rather than the victorious ruler on the field of battle. They let go reluctantly.

Darren heard a teasing chuckle in his mind from Jasan.

The next moment, Jasan had become serious again. :There's a problem with some of your men.: he said urgently, :Get up here. : he wanted Darren to mount.

"Pardon me, lady..." He began, but Selenay was already mounting her Companion.

"Come on," she cried, "Before it turns to more blood shed."

"What's happening?" Darren asked as Jasan cantered in Selenay's wake.

:There's a Companion down.: Jasan's voice was tense, :One of your men offered to help the Herald 'put down his horse':

"Ah, _hell._" Darren realized that his men would see the Companions as beasts like Kerowyn's war steeds. Clever and valuable, certainly, but when badly injured, a beast to be put out of it's misery.

Selenay arrived a breath before Darren did. The Herald stood with his sword out between Darren's officer and the downed mare, "I will tell you one last time," the Herald was saying in a quiet and deadly voice, "You _will _walk away or I will _gut _you and leave you for the crows."

The officer and two of his men stood around the Herald, giving him ample room, but clearly trying to position themselves to rush the man. When Darren rode up the officer turned to him, "My Lord, the lad's addled. There's not a scratch on him, but we found him under his horse, knocked out. Stunned, I think, as he doesn't look like he's hurt at all. But maybe he hit his head--I don't know. When we got him out from under the mare, he came to. He seemed sensible, but he wouldn't leave her. Then he demanded a healer for the horse." the officer shook his head at what he saw as mere raving. "It's clear the poor thing's suffering. I know how it is to be attached to a mount, so I offered to help him do the needful, and he just went mad." This officer, Darren knew, often took it upon himself to put down horses injured in battle. He loved horses and the sight of a suffering one just broke his heart.

Selenay got down from her Companion who moved around to the head of the downed Companion. The Herald dropped his swordpoint when he saw Selenay and the other Companion. Darren's men tensed as Selenay ran forward to the Herald, "Lady, be careful" one of them breathed.

"Neave! It's all right. We're here." Selenay said quietly, holding out her hands, "Put up your sword. They're not...they just made a mistake. Kyril's sent someone to find a Healer."

The man sheathed his sword. Selenay moved to the young man and put her arms around his shoulders. He shook like a leaf in the wind as Selenay led him to sit by the head of his Companion.

Darren turned back to his men, "We'll take care of this," he said to the officer, "You go and help with the mopping up."

"Aye, my lord." the officer was clearly happy to leave it with Darren.

Darren moved over to where Selenay was sitting with the lad. The young man flinched and put his hand to his sword belt when he saw Darren, he relaxed again when Jasan came to stand beside Darren.

The downed Companion was breathing quickly and harshly. Neave stroked her nose and cradled her head in his lap. In a choked whisper, he told Selenay, "I don't know how long we were down. I don't remember what hit us, but look..." he brought his hand up from under the mare's body, red with her blood, "How much blood can they lose?" he wiped his bloody hand on the thigh of his uniform, "I think someone came in underneath...that's the last thing I remember anyway...there was no room to parry and..." his voice trailed off.

Two Heralds came pounding up, each with a green robed healer. The older of the two Heralds sat down on the other side of Neave, "I brought two Healers who've worked with Companions before. If its possible, they'll save her."

Neave nodded vaguely.

"Thank you, Kyril." said Selenay, "Were you hurt, Neave?" she started looking him over.

"N-no." Neave was still shivering, "I think I just blacked out when they hit Kyldathar."

"Prince Darren?" called Selenay. In spite of the gravity of the situation, a thrill went through Darren at the sound of his name from her mouth, "There's a cloak behind my saddle. Would you hand it to me?"

"Of course" he replied. Her Companion came forward, and Darren handed Selenay the cloak which she wrapped around Neave. Darren found his heart swelling with admiration at the care the Queen was showing her Herald. It reminded him of his old teacher Tarma, the way she referred to the troops she had once commanded as her children. Tarma had taught both he and Kerowyn to value the blood of those they commanded as if it were their own. Selenay clearly felt the same way. Rather than send for a Healer and let them carry on with it, she sat on the ground wrapping her own cloak around the Herald as if he were her own child.

"What can I do?" he asked, suddenly feeling foolish at standing there staring.

It was one of the Healers, working on the Companion, who answered, "We can't move the Companion tonight, my lord. Perhaps you could have your men just set up a tent around us? If there are any other Heralds or Companions injured we'll need a large one."

"Captain Kerowyn was injured." said Selenay, "And she's been Chosen..two in one day! Have the others bring her here."

Darren bowed to Selenay, "As you wish, Highness." again he was rewarded with Selenay's smile. He wondered idly as he went to make the arrangements, what it was that he could do to make her smile at him like that always.


	26. Chapter 26

Once Darren gave the order to set up a Healer's tent on the battlefield, he went to make sure that it was one of the Skybolt's own Healers who was tending Kero. She was edgy about outsiders knowing that Need was anything but an ordinary sword.

As Darren had expected, Shallan had gotten one of their Healers to look at their Captain--she'd brought him herself, before the Herald that Eldan had sent was back. The Skybolt's Healer made a great show of examining and working on her. This was a rehearsed act, to avoid questions.

When he was done, he reassured Darren and Herald Eldan that Kerowyn was in a Healing trance, not a coma, "She'll be fine in the morning. It was just a glancing blow--her helm took most of it."

Eldan, who'd witnessed the attack, looked dubious though the Valdemaran Healers were satisfied. They took Kerowyn into the tent followed by the Companion who'd apparently Chosen her. Darren hoped to be on hand when Kero came to and discovered she'd gotten a Companion to go with her magic sword.

Darren told the Valdamaran Healers to make sure they left her sword with her, "She'll react badly if she wakes up without her weapon." he said to them. They nodded knowingly--they were accustomed to fighting men and women.

Selenay and the older Herald that had been with her before stood outside the tent, talking quietly. Darren walked over to them, followed by Jasan.

"We need to send for Talia." Selenay was telling the Herald, "If..." she saw Darren and whatever she was going to say died on her lips. She recovered quickly however, clearing her throat, "Elspeth can handle things there for a few days."

The older Herald frowned in concentration for a moment, "Elcarth says that Talia and Dirk will be on their way in a candlemark." said the Herald.

"Is there anyone here that is close to him? I don't want him to be alone if the worst happens."

"I'll ask Alberich to look in on him"

"Perfect. Thank you. Would you also see to getting the lists of other casualties?" Selenay was keeping one eye on Darren as she spoke.

The Herald nodded and bowed slightly to Selenay, then to Darren, "Of course, I'll start that now. If you need me for anything else, call me." he mounted his Companion who had come trotting up.

Darren gave Selenay the same kind of half bow he'd seen the Herald give her. "Highness." he said formally, but with (he hoped) his most charming smile

She laughed kindly and Darren warmed right through, "Please, Prince Darren" she replied, "Just call me Selenay."

"Then, you must call me Darren." he told her, pleased that this was going so well. He glanced toward the tent, "How is the Companion?" he asked, sobering.

She sighed, biting her lip, "The Healers can't say. She lost a lot of blood. Those bastards hit her with a short blade, fortunately. If it had been a sword, she would have bled out quickly." Selenay's blue eyes clouded with an old sadness, and Darren wanted to put his arms around her again, this time to comfort her. He couldn't remember ever being affected by a woman like this before.

"What happens to the Herald if the Companion dies?" Darren asked quietly. He figured he'd better know what he was in for.

Selenay looked from him to Jasan and back, "Sometimes they're Chosen again. They're never quite the same, though."

"What about the ones who don't get Chosen again?" Darren asked, "Do they have to give up being a Herald?"

Selenay looked rather bleak, "The ones who don't get Chosen again are usually dead." Her Companion nuzzled her cheek and for a moment she leaned against the mare, drawing strength, "Still, Kyldathar's young and Companions have remarkable powers to Heal. I won't give up hope yet." She smiled at Darren again. "I believe there is some attempt at food preparation being made. Would you care to join me in my tent for dinner?"

In answer, Darren extended his arm courteously, delighted to have some excuse to have her arm in his.

**

Kerowyn was vaguely aware of Healer Jaran making a big fuss of her. He knew that Need would take care of her, but she instructed him to do just this if she ever took a serious wound while they were working on a contract.

Someone picked her up and put her on a litter and she drifted off again.

When next Kerowyn came back to herself, she was lying on a cot covered in a layer of warm blankets. She couldn't think where she was. She heard the sound of two men talking quietly. She opened her eyes to slits, her head was aching and she wanted desperately to go back to sleep. A gray haired man sat with his back to her on the other side of a large tent. The red light of sunset was coming in through the tent flap.

With a cold shiver, she realized what had woken her. The two men were talking in Karsite. All thoughts of sleep were pushed away, but she couldn't seem to get rid of the cobwebs. She wondered if she'd been drugged.

She reached out her hand. Star-eyed be praised, Need was right beside her, leaning up against the cot. She'd make sense of _that _later.

There only seemed to be the two men here and the one closest to her was sitting on the floor at his ease. The other one was sitting, wrapped in blankets, next to a large pile of rugs or something. He didn't look like any threat--he looked like he'd been injured somehow.

Kerowyn took a deep breath, grasped Need's hilt and surged out of the blankets piled on top of her, pulling Need from her sheath. Kerowyn's knees were shaky but she held Need steadily enough, pointing her at the man closest to her.

He turned around at the sound of her standing up. He had a face seamed with old scars and the sharp Karsite look about him. She saw him tense as if to spring to his feet, and then he deliberately relaxed. He didn't stand, but raised open hands to show he was unarmed, "Peace, Captain." he said in oddly accented Valdemaran, "You are among friends."

:Chosen! Calm down!: someone was Mindspeaking to her. Kero shook her aching head. The voice was one she recognized but couldn't place. It was a woman's voice, as trusted as Tarma's or her Grandmother's would be. She looked around for the source, confusedly.

A Companion stood beside her.

"Oh." she said vaguely, "You weren't a dream."

:No, kechara, I'm not.: said Sayvil gently.

Kerowyn's mind was slowly lurching into functioning, :Who's that? Where am I? And why is a Karsite here? And why does my head hurt so much?: she Mindspoke to the Companion, dropping Needs point a trifle. With a start, she saw that what she had taken for a pile of textile was another Companion, also covered in blankets like the injured man.

:That's _Herald _Alberich. He and Herald Neave always speak in Karsite. Your head hurts because someone hit you over the head with a mace. You're in the Healer's tent. You can't wake up properly because you are _supposed _to be in a Healing trance. And you need to lie back down before you fall down.:

"Oh." said Kerowyn cleverly. She sheathed Need, "Sorry," she muttered at the dark haired man, who gave who gave her a half smile and a nod before he turned back to the other man.

She lay back down, making sure that she tucked Need next to her on the cot.

It was quite dark when she woke up, feeling much more alert. Need was tugging on her insistently, she wanted Kero to do something. Kerowyn lay quietly trying to figure out what the sword, which had been remarkably since they'd entered Valdemar, wanted.

:Chosen?: the voice of her Companion made her jump, :Sorry.: said Sayvil, :I heard you wake up. How do you feel?:

:Better: Kerowyn sat up slowly. It was very dark and as she put her foot down her knee brushed a cot that was set up right next to hers.

:That's Eldan.: supplied Sayvil, :He wanted to be nearby.:

A figure came in holding a candle, wearing the green robes of a Valdemaran Healer. Kerowyn couldn't tell if it was a man or woman. It went to lean over the Herald curled up with his Companion. First touching the man and then the Companion.

The Healer straightened and turned to see Kerowyn sitting up on her bed, "Captain? You're awake. Do you need anything?" asked a woman's voice.

"No. No, I'm fine." she replied softly, not wanting to wake Eldan or the other man that was lying near the sleeping Companion.

The Healer walked closer, walking around the sleeping Eldan to stand in front of Kerowyn, "Would you look up please?" Kerowyn did so. The Healer brought the candle to where she could see Kero's eyes. She put a hand over one of Kero's eyes, took it away. Did the same with the other eye, checking to see that both her eyes reacted to the candlelight. The Healer smiled, looking pleased. "Your Healer said you mostly needed rest. He's gone to get some sleep now. He said he'd be back to check on you in the morning. You were very lucky, you should be just fine."

"Are we the only casualties?" asked Kerowyn looking around.

"You and Herald Neave and his Companion are the only Herald casualties. We treat the Heralds separately because we also treat Companions." The Healer took a candle stub out of a holder and put the lit one in it. "I'll be awake, right outside if you need me, Captain." said the Healer as she left.

Need was tugging harder at Kerowyn. :What's going on there?: Kerowyn asked indicating the man and the Companion.

:Kyldathar was injured during the battle. Neave was under her as she fell and blacked out. Kyldathar lost a lot of blood while they were laying there.: Sayvil sighed, :Healing Companions is chancy. Sometimes we just can't be fixed. We-we think they're both dying.: Sayvil's mind voice took on a flat despairing tone, :Neave's Bond with Kyldathar was always strong, and he's been pouring his energy into her. He fell unconcious about a candlemark ago.:

:So Kyldathar's a mare?: asked Kerowyn, beginning to understand what Need might want. Perhaps Need didn't realize the dying female wasn't a woman but a Companion mare, or perhaps she didn't care. She'd just sensed a female in jeopardy.

:Yes. Why?:

:My sword, it's magic. It has healing powers. It only works for females, and I think she wants to help the Companion.:

Sayvil considered what Kerowyn was saying for a long moment , :Show me.: she said at last.

Kerowyn understood Sayvil to mean she wanted Kerowyn to drop all her shields--to be completely open to her. For a moment Kerowyn hesitated, but she reckoned if she was in debt for a lamb, she might as well be in debt for a sheep. Kerowyn dropped all her shields for the first time since she learned to shield.

Kerowyn had half expected to feel like her head was being rummaged through. Sayvil, instead, moved through her mind as though through a library, carefully examining memories and putting them back in the order she found them.

:I do think she might be able to help. All right, let's try. It can't hurt and it might help.:

Kerwyn stood up and looked at Eldan, who was snoring. :I'd rather not have the whole world knowing about Need...:

Sayvil whickered like a soft chuckle, :He won't wake up. Ratha says he's so worn out you could have a tourney in here and he wouldn't notice. I can keep the Healer out, too.:

That was an interesting thing to say, thought Kerowyn.

Kerowyn took Need and went to sit down next to the Companion. This was what Need wanted--she was making that clear in the back of Kero's mind. The Herald and Companion were both hardly breathing. Kerowyn laid the sword against the Companion's side. As she did so, she felt a strong wrenching tug on her mind and a sensation of falling into blackness.

She snatched both sword and mind back, her heart racing with panic.

:All right. I see what she's doing. It looks like she's using a mage spell in combination with normal Healing...hmm. I haven't seen that in a _very_ long time.: said Sayvil calmly, she knelt down next to Kerowyn, :Put your hand on my neck and then put the sword down.:

This time the sensation was of standing in a swift river, feeling the water run past her.

:She _is _using a mage spell,: Sayvil was saying, :But she needs more energy than she can tap for this. I wonder...: Sayvil sounded as though she was talking to herself.

:_??:_

Kerowyn jumped. Something had come into the tent and was watching her. She looked around, but couldn't see it. The sensation of energy movement became stronger as did the sensation of being stared at. Was this what had driven her mages to distraction?

:Shoo.: said Sayvil absently, as though shooing away an overly freindly dog, :Go, we're busy.:

:!!:

The feeling of being watched went away.

After a long time, the Companion began to breathe more deeply and evenly. As did the Herald. It seemed that whatever Need was doing to the Companion was doing the Herald good as well. Kerowyn couldn't tell anything else in the dim candlelight.

A hand grabbed the wrist that held Need. Kerowyn looked at the Herald laying beside her. His eyes were confused and sleep muddled, "What are you doing?" he whispered.

It was Sayvil who replied, :Helping Kyldathar find her way back. Go back to sleep lad.: The boy didn't even seem to realize that it was Sayvil who spoke, he just nodded and dozed off again.

:I think we can stop now: said Sayvil after a few more minutes, she sounded very satisfied.

:Will the Companion live?: asked Kerowyn.

:Oh yes,: chuckled Sayvil, :She absolutely will. I don't think Neave will remember in the morning, if you're worried. I think he was too far gone to really register what we were doing.:

:That suits me.: said Kerowyn.

She looked back at the cot Eldan was sleeping on. It looked quite sturdy and not _too _narrow. She stood, taking Need with her and Sayvil went back to the place she had been lying on. "Eldan?" Kero whispered to him and shook his shoulder. He opened his eyes, smiling delightedly when he saw her, "Is there room in there for me?" she asked.

"I think so." he said, moving over.


	27. Chapter 27

_"It's all right, Neave," Mara was saying. She brushed his damp hair back, "They've drained you down to nothing. I can give you something, but you have to let me in. Do you trust me?"_

_He nodded. He was terrifyingly short of breath and the mage had taken something from him. As if some vital essence were gone, draining away with that red mist. He was lying on his pallet of rags in front of the kitchen hearth. Mara had covered him with her own cloak. He was cold, even so._

_Mara began to chant in a low voice, she took something from the bowl on her and cast it into the fire. She lifted her hands. They were glowing a soft yellow in the same way that the mage's hands had glowed red. She laid her hands on his side, muttering in a strange language. His breathing eased, "You're lucky," Mara said, "They were only bruised." she stared into his eyes. "You'll be all right."_

_That wasn't right...he'd felt bone rubbing on bone and..._

_"Listen to me." said Mara still holding his eyes with hers. "You don't need to think on what happened tonight. You were roughed up some, but you'll heal. You just had the wind knocked out of you. Don't think on it."_

_Yes, that made sense. And he didn't really want to think on what had happened. He let it slide to the back of his mind._

_His breathing eased more with whatever she was doing. He felt stronger. Tired, but it was an ordinary, weary, tired._

_"That's right. Just let it go. You don't need to think on it. There's a good lad." she paused for a moment, "And I don't want you cutting yourself anymore." she was always going on about that. Well, for Mara, he'd stop. _

_Something changed. The light from Mara's hands turned blue white. He reached up and grabbed her wrist, "What are you doing?" he asked._

_"Helping Kyldathar find her way back. Go back to sleep, lad" said a woman's voice that wasn't Mara's. _

_He remembered that name. If Kyldathar came back for him, everything would be all right. He nodded and closed his eyes._

_"Do you have any tales, Mara?" He asked her. Mara told wonderful tales when she was of a mind._

_He heard a smile in her voice as she replied, "Have I told you about the Heralds from Valdemar..?"_

_***_

"Neave?" a voice was saying over his head. He knew it was Talia. She always announced her presence with a little mental brush against his shields. He was bundled up next to Kyldathar who was soundly asleep.

He opened his eyes blearily, "Hmm?"

Talia was kneeling down beside him. She looked tired but very happy, "The Healers wanted me to wake you up and get you to eat something."

Healers. Right. He was with the Healers. The had him on a bed roll on the floor next to Kyldathar. He'd been sleeping with his head pillowed on her flank, as he often did.

He remembered Kyldathar screaming and the pain echoed in his own body. Motion and then blackness.

He shook his head a little to clear it. _He _wasn't hurt. He would have scrambled up at once, but to his dismay, he found himself too weak to move.

Talia put her hand on his shoulder, "No, brother, you stay put. The Healers tell me that you're drained down to almost nothing. They thought we were going to lose both of you."

The battle. Alberich told him they'd won? They must have. He was alive. Talia was here. The Council was to flee to Rethwellan with the Heir, if the battle had gone badly.

"Sh-shouldn't you be with Selenay?" he asked, confused. There must be loads of stuff she had to do, more important than see to him.

Talia's eyes twinkled, "Selenay is--umm--occupied. With--ah-- affairs of State. That really don't need my help." she seemed to find something very funny.

"What do the Healers say about Kyldathar?" he asked anxiously, he remembered arguing with, then holding off some of the Rethwellan regulars with his sword. They'd wanted to put his "horse" down.

"She lost a lot of blood. It was touch and go there for a while. You know how Companions are--the Healers put them back together as best they can and then just hope. But it seems that it turned around during the night." replied Talia, "The Healers say she'll be fine, now."

He closed his eyes for a few breaths, dizzy with relief, "Good. That's good." he said shakily.

Talia sat cross legged on the floor next to him, almost touching shoulders"The Healers say that you opened an unrestricted channel between the two of you. That's why you're so weak--if she had died, you would have gone with her."

"I know." he said quietly.

"You would have been Chosen again, you know." Talia said, looking at the floor rather than him.

"It wouldn't have been her." Neave replied, he'd known what he was doing when he'd done it. "I've lost too much in my life. I won't live without her. Don't ask it of me."

Talia looked at him now, a sad little smile on her lips, "That's your right, as an ordinary Herald, of course." They both knew the story of Talia's predecessor. Talimer, the former Queen's Own had been Chosen by Rolan after the death of Taver, his first Companion. Everyone said that half of Talimer's soul went with Taver.

The Monarch, the Heir and the Monarch's Own did _not _have the right to just decide to follow their Companion to the Havens. No one ever spoke of it, but somehow every Herald knew it.

"I just wanted to make sure you understood what you'd done." Talia continued, "And that you knew you'd leave a Neave sized hole in all our hearts if you left us." She reached over and grasped his hand. At the same time, with her Gift, showing him just how big a Neave sized hole in _her _heart would be.

Neave had no idea what to say to that.


	28. Chapter 28

When Kerowyn woke in the morning, Eldan was still asleep, his arms wrapped around her on the narrow cot. He woke when he felt her stirring. For a moment he lay still, then he brushed her mind gently with his own. :How's the head?: He lifted his hand to gently feel it, looking for lumps.

She smiled, "It's fine," she said aloud, "Jaran's very good."

:Don't give me that,: he Mindspoke with a half smile, :You Healed way too quickly the last time you were thumped on the head.: he referred to the first time they met, almost ten years gone now. :And there was no Healer there.:

She didn't say anything, just shrugged.

Eldan sighed when he realized she wasn't going to enlighten him, right now. "I'm just glad you're all right," he said, kissing her forhead, "I thought I'd lost you." he held her closer, "I've heard some people say that being Chosen was like being hit on the head with a mace..."

"No. it's not really like that at all." Kerowyn laughed.

"Captain?" called a voice from just outside, "Are you awake?"

Kerwyn untangled herself from Eldan's arms, "I'm awake." sitting up she saw that Sayvil was gone.

:Sayvil?: she Mindcalled, uneasily.

:Outside, kechara. Eating.: came the answer. That was the second time Sayvil called her that. It sounded Shin'a'in..but...not.

Sayvil's answer brought Kerowyn's own hunger to awareness. SHe couldn't think when last she'd eaten.

Another green robed Healer came in, a man this time, "How are you feeling, now?" it was the same man who'd just called from outside the tent. He put his hand on her forehead and smiled broadly, "You seem much better."

"I'm feeling quite well, thank you. " She realized she wore nothing but a long shift. She hadn't noticed that when she'd woken the last couple of times. She must have looked a sight when she'd jumped up pointing Need at that man the evening before, "Can I get dressed?"

"Yes, Captain. In fact, your Lieutenant brought some clean clothes over early this morning. Her Highness requests that you meet with she and Prince Darren as soon as you feel able." The Healer replied courteously, indicating a folding stool that held some of Kero's clothes, "I'm happy to release you from our care, now. Although perhaps you'd like your own Healer to check on you?"

"No, no that's fine." said Kerowyn, hastily. The Healer smiled and turned to check on the Companion and the Herald still sleeping at the end of the tent.

"How're they doing?" asked Eldan.

The Healer turned, still smiling, "It was a near thing, but they'll be all right."

Kero saw that someone had set up a screen in the corner and went to go change clothes. Eldan and the Healer were talking too quietly for her to hear, then she heard the Healer walk out. She came out from behind the screen, sat down to put her boots on.

"So what's going on with them?" asked Kerowyn nonchalantly, as she buckled on her sword belt, indicating the Companion and Herald.

"Kyldathar was wounded. The Healer's weren't sure they were going to save her." Eldan replied, "Although, it looks like she had more fight in her than they thought. It'll be some time before she'll be completely healed, but she'll be fine."

:Thanks to us: said Sayvil.

Kerowyn had to struggle to keep a straight face.

The camp was relatively quiet and Kerowyn guessed that many of the soldiers were still in their bedrolls after so many days on the run. Kerowyn reckoned she ought to go see Selenay before she found a meal. She and Eldan made their way to Selenay's tent.

When they arrived, Kero was unsurprised to see Darren and Selenay standing over piles of paper. They both looked up as Kerowyn and Eldan entered, "Kero!" said Darren, clearly pleased and relieved to see her.

Selenay smiled, "Have you eaten yet? We were just going to have something sent over."

Kerowyn smiled back, "No, and I'm starving."

That morning was a little strange for Kerowyn. Whatever reservations anyone might have had about her seemed to be banished by the fact of her being Chosen. The Heralds that made up Selenay's personal staff had been courteous to her before, but now they treated her like a long lost sister. It was slightly overwhelming. Strangest of all was the fact that Darren had also been Chosen and he was making eyes at Selenay like a boy with his first crush.

There was a great deal of business to take care of between the three forces. Decisions and plans needed to be made. The underlying mood was very different from the meetings before the battle, however. There was a great deal of good natured banter and teasing

Just before dinner, Talia came in, followed by Dirk. They both looked tired.

Selenay embraced her Herald, brought her over to the table they were sitting around. Darren and Kerwoyn were the only ones still there. The others having gone to take care of errands or to get their own dinners.

"Darren, you've already met Talia and Dirk?" Selenay asked.

Darren and Kerowyn had risen to clasp hands with Talia, then Dirk. Talia stared at Darren for a moment, then turned startled eyes toward Selenay, then turned back to Darren. "It is very good to see you again, Prince Darren," she said, with a wide smile.

"Ahrodie tells me you were both Chosen?" said Dirk,

Darren grinned, "I'm not sure how I'm going to explain to my brother that I'm not coming back because I have a new mount."

Selenay gestured for them all to sit.

"Are all the Heralds accounted for?" asked Talia.

Selenay's eyes dimmed a little, "Yes. All the ones that disappeared with Kerowyn's scouting parties are dead."

:How do they know that?: Kerowyn asked Sayvil, surprised.

:They know who the Death Bell rang for: Sayvil said solemnly.

Talia nodded, "I thought so, they knew better than to be captured." she had turned a little pale and Dirk grasped her hand.

"Wait, what do you mean by that?" asked Kerowyn. A scant breath later, she knew she didn't want an answer. Selenay and Talia both looked away.

It was Dirk who answered, "Any Herald who looked like they were to be captured were to...avoid it any way they could." he paused and cleared his throat, "Even if it meant taking their own lives."

A long pause. Talia spoke at last, "So what are the other casualties like?"

"Mine were fairly light." said Darren, "Mostly because of those farmers that Ancar had bespelled--they were not planning on coming back anyway. All my troops had to do was stay out of their way."

"We're about the same," Selenay said, "Kerowyn's Skybolts took the brunt of it, I'm afraid. Whatever we can do to compensate your people, Kerowyn, just name it."

Kerowyn smiled sadly, "Just the terms of the agreement will do. All my people know what they were getting into."

Selenay nodded.

"How are the Herald's casualties?" asked Talia.

"The worst were Neave and Kyldathar. The rest were relatively minor. The Healers tell me that Kyldathar will live though." Selenay replied.

"I should go see him." said Talia, she turned to Dirk, "Would you go find us a bed, love?"

Dirk nodded, "If there's nothing else that's vital, I can see to that now."

"Go on, then," Selenay said, "I know you rode all night, to get here so soon."

Darren turned to Kerowyn, "I'm sure you want to have an early night, too." and he gave her a little wink.

Kerowyn had a hard time keeping from laughing, as she realized that Darren was trying very hard to get Selenay alone, without being obvious about it. She left them to it

:Sayvil?: Kerowyn Mindcalled. the sun was setting, and Kero wondered where Eldan could have gotten to.

:Here.: Sayvil came frisking over, passing Talia's Companion as Talia rode him off to the other side of the camp. He gave Sayvil a hard look as he passed her. Sayvil nodded her head.

:I'm in trouble.: said Sayvil placidly.

:Sorry?: asked Kero.

:Rolan wants to have a word with me about last night. Don't concern yourself.:

Sayvil didn't sound that worried, but Kerowyn wasn't sure she liked the sound of it, :About what? My damned sword? If he wants to have a conversation about it, he'd better talk to me.:

:It's not so much your sword as not consulting him about it.: Sayvil said.

They started walking in the general direction of the Skybolt's encampment, :So, this would be the proverbial begging pardon for not asking permission?: asked Kero.

:That it would.: replied Sayvil.

Long before they reached the Skybolt encampment, Rolan appeared out of the shadows. He looked first at Kerowyn and then at Sayvil. His attitude was one of irritation. He stood and looked at Sayvil for another moment.

:Rolan, I am well aware that there are rules.: Sayvil said sharply, :I have broken none of them.:

Another silence and then Sayvil said, :Would you prefer we did nothing and we lost more of us?: she stamped her front hoof for emphasis.

He shook his head, Kerowyn felt like a child, eavsdropping on her mother and father, when she could only hear the one who stood nearer the keyhole.

:She is _my _Chosen. That is not up for discussion. The artifact she carries also happens to be what prompted her to remind Faram what he owes us.: Sayvil must have picked that out of her brain last night, it was stretching the point ,but... :She also said that if you wanted to discuss her damned sword, you could talk to her your damned self.: Sayvil's Mind voice was acid.

"That's not, _quite _how I put it." Kero protested, feeling a little embarrassed.

A deep masculine voice spoke to her now, sounding tired, exasperated and vaguely amused, as Rolan looked at Kerowyn, :No, but perhaps you and she are both correct. It is only that I worry that the sword is a danger. I have spoken with Ratha about this--artifact." When Kerowyn had first met Eldan, the sword had created a problem by drawing Karsite Sunpriestesses to them while they were trying to escape from Karse.

"That makes sense, Sir." Rolan made Kerowyn want to treat him with all the respect she showed a head of state, but she didn't know his title, "I prefer to have anything my people pick up checked out by my mages."

:Quite.: Rolan seemed to look on her with a little more favor, :How did you get the sword to help the Companion?:

"I didn't. The sword helps women who are in danger. Apparently she thinks Companions are women. She was the one who wanted to help."

:Would you allow me to See?: he asked courteously.

Kerowyn hesitated, then replied, "All right." she dropped all her shields once again, Rolan was as careful as Sayvil had been, but he was more thorough. Examining things she'd forgotten she knew.

:Thank you, Captain.: He said finally. He seemed reassured. He also sagged a little with weariness, :My Chosen is looking for me and I am tired, so I will leave you. Welcome, Herald-Captain Kerowyn.: He turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Kerowyn saw that the Skybolt's campfires were lit. The afterglow of the sunset had faded from the sky.

"Kerowyn? Is that you?" called Eldan's voice. She saw his white uniform in the darkness, "What are you doing out here?"

"I was..." Kerowyn hesitated, for a moment she couldn't think _what _she was doing. She had the disconcerting sensation that she had forgotten something important. She leaned against Sayvil and whatever it was seemed less so. The moon was rising and it looked like it was going to be a lovely clear night, "I was just watching the sunset, with my Companion."

"Gods, you watch sunsets?" Eldan smiled as he drew close enough to see her, "To hear some talk, you wouldn't ever do anything so frivolous."

She smiled back at his teasing and put her arm around his waist. "Sometimes, I do."


	29. Chapter 29

After Talia first woke Neave, Kyldathar took another day and a half to wake up. Neave thought he was going to fret himself to pieces before she did. He Mindtouched her at least once a candlemark to be sure that she merely slept.

Other Heralds came to check up on him about as often. He was a little surprised when even Selenay and Kyril came to check on him, given how busy he knew they must be. He was half dozing, curled against Kyldathar, when he heard them come in. The Healers had asked him if he wouldn't prefer a cot to sleeping on the floor, but he couldn't bear to be even that far from his Companion.

The usually serious Kyril was smiling more broadly than Neave had ever seen him, and Selenay was flushed with happiness. Selenay sat gracefully on the ground next to Neave, who was still far too weak to do more than sit up a little.

"How are you feeling, Neave?" Selenay asked.

"Tired." he replied. Although he hadn't actually been injured, the Healers told him that he'd recover at about the roughly same rate Kyldathar did, due to the amount of energy he'd poured into her and the way he'd opened up their Bond.

He and Talia had talked about this the day before--like stretched leather, the links between them would never go back to what they were. Neave's life was caught up in Kyldathar's more than it had ever been--if she died, so would he. There was no question of that now.

He didn't care. Kyldathar's death would remove whatever reason he had for living, anyway.

"Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?" Selenay asked solicitously.

"I'm fine. " he gave her a worn little smile, "Just tired."

Selenay leaned forward to hug him, taking him by surprise, "I am so very glad to hear that you're going to be all right. We've lost too many of us."

Neave blushed. He'd never had that much contact with Selenay before and felt quite overwhelmed by the attention. She sat sat back, letting him go. "We'll be going home soon. The Healers say that Kyldathar will need a long rest before she's completely well again. We'll have you assigned to Court or Collegium for a while."

Kyril cleared his throat, "I believe that Neave did well teaching languages." he supplied to Selenay.

:And you'd rather go back to Karse than be assigned to Court.: Kyril Mindspoke privately to Neave. To Neave's complete astonishment, grave, aloof Kyril gave him a wink.

Selenay smiled at Neave and hugged him again, "I know Elspeth will be pleased to have you around the Palace for a while." she whispered in his ear, so that Kyril couldn't hear. She got up, "If you want anything at all, let the Healers know." she said.

Neave shook his head as they left. That had to be one of the stranger conversations he'd had in a long time.

As that day wore on though, everyone who came to see him was just as giddy. It seemed that, as more reports came in, it was confirmed that Ancar's army had been completely decimated. It would take Ancar years to rebuild his army.

Apparently, the war was over.

Neave couldn't share anyone's joy. Not until Kyldathar woke again. He listened to her steady breathing, wishing he had enough strength to pace. However, in some ways his very weariness was a blessing, as he kept falling asleep.

Throughout the night, he heard the sounds of celebration in the distance. He was glad that the Healer's tent was a little removed from the rest of the camp. He heard the Healers come in and check on him. A few times they woke him to get him to eat and drink.

It was early the next morning when Kyldathar's breathing changed, waking him.

:Chosen?: she said tiredly. She struggled up from her lying position to a kneeling one, :I am so stiff.:

"Oh. Love." was all he said. He felt tears slide down his cheeks and couldn't speak.

:What happened?: she asked, worried by his tears, :Chosen?:

Neave took some deep breaths, getting control back, :You were hurt. I thought I was going to lose you.:

:Oh: She sounded confused, :Oh, yes. Something hit me, didn't it?:

Neave wiped his wet face on his sleave. :Yes. We were down for a long time. I was pinned under you, and stunned when you were hit, I think. I don't remember anything till they found us.:

:I remember hearing you call for me...You were so far off...: She heaved herself to her feet, took a long drink from the water bucket that was there for her, lay back down again, :I'm still tired. I think I'll sleep a little longer. Maybe I'll eat, in a little while.:

:All right, sweetheart. I'll still be here.: Neave felt relieved tears start down his face again. He hadn't dared to believe that she was really going to be all right, until now.

A few minutes later Talia's presence brushed against his shields and he heard two sets of footsteps behind him. He turned to see Talia and Dirk standing at the tent flap, "Neave?" said Talia softly, "Are you all right? Rolan thought we should check on you."

"It's all right." he said, smiling through his tears, "It's just that she woke up...She's spoke to me. I..." he couldn't go on. He stopped, not wanting to break down entirely.

Talia and Dirk's faces lit up, in identical joyous grins. Talia sat on one side of him and hugged him hard. That undid him completely, he sobbed into her shoulder. She and Dirk supported him as he cried helplessly. He had been so afraid...

"S-s-sorry." he said when he could speak, "it's just that..."

Dirk's hand rested on his shoulder, from his other side, " 'Excess of sorrow, laughs. Excess of joy, weeps' " he said, with an understanding smile.

**A/N The quote Dirk uses is from William Blake. I might be a few days with my next post. Holidays and everything...**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N To give some context: After Ancar's defeat by the combined forces of Rethwellan, Valdemar, and Kerwoyn's Skybolts, seven years passes before Ancar is able to threaten Valdemar again. This time he is using mages and blood rites. Valdemar has no mages apparently because the land has powerful spells protecting it--its hard to even think about mage magic within the borders, however this protection is beginning to fail.**

**Elspeth and Skif have gone to seek mages out in Rethwellan, ending up in the Tayledras lands. Elspeth has the Mage Gift and has been training with the Tayledras, who have troubles of their own.**

**As Elspeth and Skif return to Valdemar with a group of mages to help teach Valdemaran Heralds, they discover the source of the protections against mages. So that the protections don't cause damage when they fail, the spells are removed in a controlled way. **

**A powerful mage that the Tayledras thought defeated was captured by Ancar and is giving Ancar advice on how to handle his campaign. Kerowyn has sent for mages from her contacts with the Mercenary Guild and several mage schools. An alliance with Karse has been made, with Karse sending Sunpriests and priestesses who are also mages. Heralds who are identified with the Mage Gift are being trained.**

**Skif and Elspeth and a group of outlanders have been sent on a mission to assassinate Ancar and this other mage. Meanwhile, civilians are being told to evacuate lands threatened by Ancar's forces.**

**Read the _Mage Winds _series if you want to know more.**

The messages out of Haven just kept getting stranger. Every time Neave thought that the dispatches the couriers brought were as weird as they could get, they got weirder. Weirder and more ominous. The most recent was that they needed to evacuate the civilians from this little corner of the Kingdom. Apparently, Ancar thought he would defeat Valdemar through sheer force of numbers.

Neave was being specifically assigned to this because of his Gift. As Ylsa had once observed, people he set out to convince were convinced. He was to speak to the people of areas that were threatened with being overrun and convince them to flee so that the Guard could concentrate on places that could be saved with a minimum of loss. Not an easy thing, when many townsfolk and villagers never went more than two days ride on horseback from where they were born.

In truth, Neave preferred to be out here, rather than working with these mages that Elspeth and Skif had somehow brought back with them. The idea of them made his skin creep--although he knew intellectually that the magic they used was different from what Ancar's people did. Since the mage protections had fallen, his dreams had gotten bad again for the first time in years. He hadn't even known there was a connection until Kyldathar had pointed it out.

Well, assuming they lived through this, he'd talk to Talia when they returned to Haven.

The Herald courier stood in the hallway while he read his latest orders and then penned his reply. Unfortunately, she didn't wait quietly, she was talking to a couple of Guardsmen just outside the office the Post Commander had lent to Neave. He could hear her through the closed door. He'd told her to go find some food so that he had some time to go over these things, but apparently she couldn't resist stopping to tell the Guardsmen about the astonishing events in Haven.

She was a young Herald--for the last two years it seemed that they'd been pushing younger and younger people into Whites. This past year, the combat losses were so heavy among the Heralds that trainees weren't even being given proper circuits for their internships. They spent maybe six to nine months out in the field with a senior Herald before being cut loose on their own. No one was happy about it, but there was very little choice.

Neave found that these young Heralds were of two kinds. Either, they were the kind that had the grown-up-too-quickly look in their eyes and could be relied upon, or they were the type that were still convinced of their own immortality and could not.

This one, sadly, was of the latter kind. She was smart, pretty, high born and from a district that hadn't seen any fighting--yet. She was telling whoever-it-was about the strange creatures Heralds Elspeth and Skif had brought with them. Apparently, she was friends with one of the Heralds who'd escorted them to Haven. Neave listened with half an ear as he read this latest set of orders.

"And they brought gryphons with them!" she was saying, to general gasps of astonishment, "They say they're creatures just _steeped _in magic. They talk, even! And they look vicious, but they're so gentle the Queen lets her children play with them."

:As if she doesn't ride a Companion: remarked Neave to Kyldathar dryly.

:You have a little more perspective on this sort of thing,: said Kyldathar, :But, yes.:

Neave and Kyldathar had spent more than a few candlemarks convincing refugees from the southern border of Hardorn that the Companions weren't ghost horses who were going to steal their children. And he spent an equal amount of time trying to convince their new Karsite allies that he wasn't going to steal anyone's soul.

He was tired of listening to her prattle and he had penned his reply. He opened the door, smiled broadly, "Oh, good, Herald Shella. You've finished eating. I appreciate you being so quick. I need you to take these replies right away. It's important that they get to Haven as soon as may be, so I'd suggest you get on the road right now, before you lose anymore daylight."

She faltered, "Oh. Right now? But..." she stopped, her cheeks turning red.

"Yes?" he said solicitously.

"Nothing, Herald." she said, recovering. She took the message tubes from him, clearly caught between disappointment and embarrassment.

"Thank you." he said kindly, "Fair roads to you, sister."

"And to you." she returned stiffly, she walked down the hallway towards the stables rather than the dining hall.

:That was unkind.: Kyldathar said, although she was laughing, :She'll be eating road rations now, instead of a proper hot meal. And no chance of a hot meal until at least tomorrow. There's not even a Way Station she can reach in the daylight that's left.:

:What a shame.: Neave returned ironically, :At least she's _got _rations. And if she really wants to make it to the Way Station, they'd only have to ride in the dark a couple of candlemarks:

:Hmm. True.:

:Anyway, better I handle it that way, than give her a dressing down that she'll resent. She'd just decide that I was being a sour old man.:

:Sour maybe, not old though. Her Companion mentioned she was hoping to perhaps spend the night and pass some time with you.: Kyldathar replied.

:Oh, now you tell me: Neave teased, then he sighed, :I'm just has happy I sent her off, then.: Since being out here, he'd gotten very edgy again. He wasn't sure if he'd be any good company for anyone. Especially not for a green-as-grass, ought-to-still-be-in-grays youngling. :I am getting sour: he observed to Kyldathar.

:No,: she said placidly, :You've always thought that way about many of the highborn Chosen.:

Well, that was true. He started opening his personal letters, now that the business what out of the way. There weren't many. No one had much time to write these days.

A letter on top was from Elspeth, which surprised him. He hadn't heard from her the whole time she was away--but then no one had. There were rumors among non Heralds that she was either dead or that she was plotting against the Queen.

Even some of the Heralds who didn't know her, had been caught up in the speculation. He'd steadfastly pointed out to those Heralds, that Gwena would repudiate Elspeth for such a thing and according to legend and Chronicle, a repudiated Herald was not good for much afterwards. There was so much fear going around, that people were getting paranoid in general.

_Dear Neave,_

_I'm not dead._

_I've been greeted so many times with "I thought you were dead." that I thought I'd get it out of the way. Although, the truth is much stranger than many of the rumors. You will have probably heard by now that I have abdicated as the Heir, in favor of my brother and sister. So much has happened, that I'll have to tell you most of it when you get back._

_I've found a new sparring partner, like you advised me I should, all that time ago. "Someone in keeping with my abilities" I think you said. I think he'll be a long term challenge._

_We are going to be gone from the Palace. Kerowyn is sending us to safety. It will be like a holiday! Although I have abdicated, I can't let my duties go though. While I'm away, I'm planning on hosting a dinner party for a good and dear friend of the family. He is a handsome man and very skilled in obscure arts. Perhaps a permanent relationship may be formed! Who knows? I might stay there forever._

_Its important to me that I let you know. Perhaps if the party is particularly good, you'll hear the Bell ring from where you are._

_Your Very Dear Friend,_

_Elspeth,_

_By My Hand and Seal._

"Ah _Hell._" Neave said, shaken. Elspeth was using the code she'd worked out so long ago for writing to her friends in the field. If the letter went astray, it looked like a letter from a silly Highborn girl with no concerns other than dresses, dinner parties and husband catching.

So, Kerowyn was sending her on some secret mission. One she might not come back from.

"Hell." he said again.


	31. Chapter 31

It would be all right. She kept telling herself that. Sometimes things worked out. Sabeera would meet her here in a few days and it _would _be all right.

She was just one of many, though. It seemed that half the kingdom had already fled to Haven, as if it offered any real refuge.

***

Someone had thrown down some planks on the pathways in between tents, to keep people's feet out of the muck. A sort of temporary town had sprung up at the first place it was safe for the civilians to stop. Karsite and Valdemaran regulars were between them and Ancar's forces. Everyone knew that this was subject to change, however. If the order came down, everything that could not be packed up in the given amount of time would be left behind.

Most of the civilians had brought all the food they could carry with them and that was being supplemented by the supplies from the nearby Guard garrison. The real problem was keeping the water clean with this many people. Trenches had been dug for camp waste and Guards had been placed upriver to prevent illicit dumping. The last thing they needed was an epidemic of the flux from bad water.

Neave wanted a Healers station set up to look out for that kind of thing and to treat the people who were coming in with injuries. The garrison's Healers had enough on their hands as it was. One of the purposes of today's tour around the camp was to look for Healers, midwives and whatever other needful skills there were.

He'd passed word around that he was looking for Healers. As was usual, on these daily walks, his Whites brought mixed reactions. The Valdemarans were reassured, the Hardornens suspicious and the few Karsites that were there, made the sign to avert evil whenever he passed. He was surprised by the Karsite's presence until he heard that Ancar was picking away at their border too.

He went out of his way to talk to them today, speaking first to the Sun Priest who appeared very concerned about the welfare of the twenty or so people he seemed to be with.

The whole lot of them were huddled a little separately from the rest of the camp. A few old men and the rest were women and children. Either younger women who appeared to be the mothers of the small herd of children, or older women who were probably grandmothers. Neave knew that the young men, the fathers, husbands and brothers, were defending their homes with their lives. The youngest man there was the red robed priest, who was likely in his fifth decade. He had his back turned to the pathway and was talking to a group of their younglings, perhaps giving a lesson or telling a story.

"A word with you, Father." Neave called in his northern accented Karsite.

The priest turned, obviously expecting to see one of his own, "Yes?" He took in Neave's uniform and stood up quickly, as if to shield the children from harm.

"I beg your pardon, Father." Said Neave, as if he hadn't noticed, "I wouldn't inturrupt you, save my time is short and I wanted to reassure myself that there was nothing you needed."

"Nothing I...need?" the priest looked confused and suspicious.

"Yes, Father." Neave said respectfully, "Are you well situated with food? Are your women and children well?"

"We're fine. Just fine." the priest replied shortly.

Neave heard one of the women whisper, "Demon Spawn," in an awed voice to one of the others.

"If your people need anything at all, Father, my name is Herald Neave. I am in charge of this camp and I wish people to be as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. If you have any difficulties, please ask for me." Neave put a good measure of Gift behind his words.

The priest stared at him, then nodded, reluctantly.

Neave knelt one one knee before the man, in the traditional posture of a supplicant seeking Vkandys' Blessing from the priest, that he had learned in Karse. Neave watched the man from under his eye lashes, waiting.

After a moment, the Sun Priest put shaking hands on the Herald's head, muttering the formula of the Blessing.

Neave looked up into the priest's eyes and returned the proper response. He stood. No Sun Fire came down to obliterate Neave, as it should have, if he were really a demon.

The priest's whole body was shaking. The elders and young women were staring open mouthed. The children had already found another game to play while the adults talked.

Neave smiled at the women, bowed slightly to the priest and elders and left them to ponder that. Sometime this week, he would come to one of their Sunset ceremonies. As with the Blessing, the priest was not allowed to refuse it to anyone. They believed very strongly that the Sunlord would destroy any who sought His Blessing under false pretenses.

Neave was just glad that the Sun Priest did not appear to be a mage who could fry him with a thought.

:No.: put in Kyldathar, as Neave walked back to the main camp :Even were he a mage, that one wouldn't:

:Have you been prying?: he asked her, surprised.

:No, I saw them come in. He is a man of faith, I heard him telling his people that Solaris said they'd be safe here--Solaris is the True Son of the Sun and so they must put aside all fear.: Kyldathar liked to hang about the road that was the front entrance to the camp, listening to the talk as people went by. Most of the foreigners took her for a horse, although the Valdemaran children always knew her for what she was, and often begged to feed her a carrot or an apple.

:Huh:

"Take your mind off your troubles, milord?" young woman called in Hardornen as she sashayed past him, "I could put a smile on your face, for a silver or two." clearly taking his Mindspeaking look for gloom.

The woman next to her hissed in her ear. The first one paled and stammered, "Of course for you, milord, I-I wouldn't really take..." He wasn't sure if the other woman had told the first one that he was the camp commander, or that merely being a Herald merited her charms for free.

Neave smiled at her tiredly, "No, thank you, mistress. We're not allowed to accept gifts on duty--goods _or _services. And tempting as your services may be, I have a lady who's very jealous of my affections." He didn't want to insult her and he wasn't sure what the last lot of Hardornen refugees had heard about Heralds

"Oh." she said, non-plussed.

He turned to walk with her and her friend. They looked like they'd rather be anywhere but with him, "How are you situated, mistress? Are you comfortable?"

"I-yes." She said turning red and looking steadfastly forward. Neave understood, she did not know how her profession was viewed in Valdemar and propositioning a man in authority was sometimes an unwise thing to do.

"You have enough food and fuel?"

"Yes, milord." she said, Neave could hear her almost right through his sheilds, wanting him to go away.

"I have little time, mistress, so I'll get right to the point." he said, "There are no laws in Valdemar against your profession, but given the atmosphere of the camp, I'd like you to e somewhat discreet. No sense in upsetting the self-proclaimed respectable." he paused a moment thinking where best to put that sort of thing, "I'd prefer if you confined your activities to, say, the Garrison side of the camp. You'll get more custom there anyway. Also, the age of consent is sixteen. No one younger is to work as a prostitute. If you could pass the word, I'd appreciate it." He stopped and took another breath, "If you have any difficulties with anything, please ask for me, Herald Neave."

"Uhh, all right." The woman said sceptically. This was another group of people he'd have to persuade that he wasn't going to have them summarily fed to Ancar's forces.


	32. Chapter 32

It was a ticklish political situation for Neave to work with the commander of the garrison. Being saddled with close to a thousand civilians he was expected to protect was not something he had bargained for. As a career military man, he had a certain contempt for the habits and needs of ordinary people.

As towns and villages evacuated, they fled west with only a modicum of order. The people escaping the war zone were undisciplined and frightened. The commander saw them as a hazard to themselves and his troops, but he had received orders that he was to protect their rear if it became necessary to evacuate again.

In order to stave off misunderstandings, Neave met with him frequently to keep him apprised of the camp doings. They were never easy meetings. The commander had an irritating habit of assuming he knew what Neave was saying without letting Neave say it.

"I ran into some prostitutes yesterday," Neave told him as they met in the commander's office over their noon meal, "I..."

The commander rolled his eyes and inturrupted, "Herald. I can't do anything about that, if the women are hiring themselves out. You can't expect people to not have--liasons. My people..."

"If I could finish?" Neave cut him off, a little sharply.

The commander closed his mouth irritably.

"I have asked them to keep to the garrison side of the camp. That way, your people can hire them, if they've a mind, without tracking all through the camp. Tell your lads that they can hire them, but I won't have them abused. If any of your men want something...exotic...they can find a willing girl and hire her. _And_ pay the going rate for such a thing. "

The commander looked surprised. Neave wondered what his experience with Heralds had been, previous to this

Neave looked at the commander significantly, "Also, let the men know, if they get sweet on a foreign girl, she's still subject to our laws. If she's not a professional, I'd prefer they keep their hands to themselves. I don't want any cries of Breach of Promise from some poor farm girl that takes a lad too seriously and gets a Festival child by him. The last thing I need are angry fathers at my throat."

The commander smiled with a grudging understanding.

"Tell the lads, and the lasses for that matter, to stick to the professionals, unless they plan to go through with the handfasting. I have very little time for that sort of nonsense and I will call Truth Spell on everyone involved in a Breach of Promise suit. The lad will find himself in a sword point marriage if I find the suit has merit." Neave said flatly, "And the gods alone help them, if I find they've had a girl unwilling--or a lad. That's the sort of thing that can cause a riot in a place like this. I will hand him over to her family and not trouble myself how many pieces he comes back in. If she's got no family, I'll send him to Haven and have him handed over to the Queen's Own."

There had been a story, circulating for years, that Talia had driven a man mad with her Gift, because he'd raped a girl. Neave had never asked her whether it was true, but he rather hoped it was. At the least it made a handy, nonspecific threat.

Apparently the commander had heard some version of it, because he paled, "I'll tell them." he said shortly.

"We also have that group of Karsites..."

Again, the commander interrupted, "I have men to guard them, Herald. How many do you think we need?"

"Has someone troubled them, already?" asked Neave concerned. This was the first he'd heard of it, if so.

"Good gods, man. Not to protect them, to protect us."

Neave was getting very tired of this, "Last orders _I _received said that we had an alliance with Karse, so I don't think that would be constructive."

"You don't think that's real, do you?" said the commander astonished, "We're both threatened by Ancar and its a good show, but you don't honestly think we can trust them?"

"What I think doesn't enter into it," said Neave evenly, "It is not for the likes of me and thee to second guess the Queen, the Lord Marshall, and the Queen's Own Herald." He let some disdain creep into his voice, invoking his Gift. He was gratified when the other man shrank back a little in shame. "We both have our orders. Yours are to protect these civilians. _All _of them. The Karsites are greybeards and women with children. Since Karsite women don't fight, I hardly think they merit the sort of precautions you are prepared to take. I'm _merely _informing you of their presence. If we're here for very long, harrassment of them might become an issue and I may need that manpower you offered."

With an abruptness bordering on rudeness, Neave stood and collected his reports. "I'll let you know if I require anything more from you." Neave thought it was time he reminded the man who was in authority here.

"Yes, Herald," The commander stood, Neave nodded his head and left the office.

:Fool: Neave remarked darkly to Kyldathar. :He's just dying to be in the middle of the fighting where he can earn some glory, rather than be here nursmaiding a lot of civilians.:

Kyldathar was waiting for Neave in the stable yard :I think he's wondering what he did wrong, to get stuck with this assignment:, she said, :Some of the soldiers are too.:

Neave just shook his head.

Today, as he headed into the camp, he told the few guardsmen that he had serving as his staff, that he'd like to speak with the clergy that afternoon. He thought it might be the best way to discover people's needs. People were likely to tell the clergy about difficulties they considered too small to bother the mayor or headman of their village with. The trouble with those little needs was that in this sort of situation, they soon became major needs. And in some places, the priest _was _the village leader.

Neave himself went to the Karsite encampment to make sure the Sunpriest heard and was invited.

After the meeting, the Karsite priest loitered, letting the others precede him out. Neave had been worried that the priest would have too hard a time following as they conversed mostly in Valdemaran and Hardornen. "Yes, Father?" he said politely.

"Herald, I..." the priest stopped and then steeled himself, "One of our children is ill."

Neave stood quickly. Half the camp's children were sick with something. The Healers said it was to be expected when this many people were crammed together, "Is it serious?"

"I don't know. I have no skill at Healing." said the priest.

Neave took the man to the newly set up Healer's station. He asked one of the Hardornen Healers if she could see to the child and went with both of them to the Karsite tents.

The Healer followed several anxious women into one of the tents and Neave stood outside with the priest. The Hardornen Healer had a reasonable command of Karsite and didn't need an interpreter.

The priest observed Neave curiously for a few minutes, "Why are you here?" he asked finally.

Neave shrugged, "It's my job. I was assigned to look after the evacuees. They sent _me _because I speak Hardornen well." he paused, "And Karsite, of course."

The priest smiled a little, "I meant, why do you wait here? Are you afraid we'll eat your Healer?"

"I wanted to find out if the illness is serious and if I can do anything. As I said, its my job." Neave looked around for somewhere to sit, settling down on a log someone had dragged over by the fire pit. Most of the inhabitants of the camp were making themselves scarce, although there was one old woman preparing food, giving him a suspicious glare. Neave nodded to her, not yet wanting to risk speaking to her.

The priest sat down on another log nearby. Neave asked him, "So, how is it you came here, Father?"

"The same way as everyone else, I suppose. We were attacked by the Hardornen forces. The fighting cut us off from fleeing south. One of the Army commanders told us to flee west and promptly forgot us, I think." the man sighed, "We became lost and...well...I had a very strange experience. One that I couldn't deny. It sent us here."

"What sort of experience?" asked Neave curiously.

The priest smiled crookedly, "I think that I will keep my own counsel on that."

Neave thought that was fair enough. They sat silently for a while.

The Healer came out of the tent. She smiled at the men, who stood, "How's the child?" asked Neave.

"She'll be all right." The Healer spoke in Karsite so the priest could understand, "She's got a flux, but its not a contagious one. She's just weak and worn out. I've done some Healing on her and I'll bring some tonics up here. All the children should have them.

"Thank you, Healer." Neave said. She smiled back at him and the priest and left them.

"This is a very strange time." said the priest, he held out his hand to Neave, "I have lived to see much of what I believed to be proven false. Thank you."

Neave took the man's hand to shake it, "I didn't do much, Father. I just found the Healer."

"Thank you, regardless, Herald."

That evening, Neave sat next to a dozing Kyldathar in his tent, trying to catch up on a seemingly endless stack of reports. Kyldathat suddenly came awake all at once, :There's a Companion coming.: she said

Neave saddled Kyldathar so they could go meet the Herald.

It was Destria, she'd been doing courier work for the last six months or so. She had a fierce smile on her face when she drew near him. She jumped down from the saddle.

"I hope you've got good news" said Neave, also getting down.

Destria pulled a message scroll out of her bag, never losing her smile, "The war's over." she said, "Ancar's dead and whats left of his army is suing for peace."

It took a moment to sink in, "It's over?"

She nodded, "Here's the official pronouncement." she brandished the scroll, "You're to tell the civilians that its safe for them to return home."

Neave suddenly put both hands on either side of her face and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Then he picked her up and swung her around. He set her down again, she was laughing and so was he.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N Now that the holidays are finally over, I can get back to posting regularly again. Just a few more chapters though...**

"So, what do you plan on doing when you get home?" asked Destria as she curled up next to Neave on his cot. She had the blankets wrapped around her and looked like a sleek, sleepy cat, Neave thought. She was a little self-conscious about her scars, she liked to drape the blankets over them.

Neave smiled, stretched, "Get drunk. Sleep for a week. Eat until I can't move. I haven't thought much past that."

They had spent the day delivering the news that the war was over. Addressing first the Guard officers, then calling the whole camp together. Destria made the Announcement and Neave addressed the crowd, explaining that the Queen had declared the emergency evacuation over. Heralds would be sent out to every district to assess damages and address needs. Neave was to stay long enough to disband the camp in an orderly fashion.

Tears, laughter still echoed from all quarters of the camp. Some of the civilians were leaving as soon as dawn, eager to get back and discover what had happened to their homes.

When, finally, Neave and Destria had returned to Neave's tent, both their Companions were gone. Kyldathar had shielded Neave out, indicating that she and Destria's Companion, a stallion, were having a private celebration all their own.

Neave had a flask of wine spirits he'd been saving and they shared it. Destria was the best company he'd had in a long time. He stretched some more, stood up, taking one of the blankets wrapped around him. Rummaged around in his baggage that held his things and brought out his bed roll.

"What are you doing?" Destria asked, curiously "There's room for two of us."

Neave smiled at her again, shrugged, "I'm a restless sleeper. You take the cot. I'd just kick you black and blue." with just a touch of his Gift he reached for Destria's mind to let her know that what he said was true (or at least as much as he was willing to tell her of the truth) so that she didn't get the impression it was her.

Destria watched him make up his bed on the floor right next to the cot. "You know," she said quietly, with understanding, "I still dream about the fire. Scared more than one person half to death with how I wake up."

He leaned over to kiss her on the mouth. He caught her right hand in his. He kissed the rough scars on the back of her hand, turned it over and kissed the unscarred palm, "Thank you." he said, meaning it.

He was always a little uneasy when he had a new lover. He never knew how she'd take his idiosyncrasies. One reason he didn't like to bed anyone other than Heralds anymore was that Healers tended to want to fix him and Bards tended to view it as a personal slight. He'd tried, but with someone beside him he'd just lay awake, tense and staring at the ceiling. Sometimes he would doze off, and then she'd move, or worse, put her arm around him. He'd wake up with his heart pounding and half formed nightmares running through his head.

Eventually he'd move to the floor or if he was in the lady's room he'd get up and find his own room.

He never bedded anyone who didn't have at least a little Mind Magic. A Herald, a Healer, or a Gifted Bard had an energy signature that signified "safe" to his gut. He was pretty sure he'd be unable to perform with someone who was completely unGifted. Even Heralds who had no other Gifts, had the Herald Bond. Neave could recognize a Herald with his eyes closed, another weird manifestation of his otherwise useless Farsight. If Neave exerted himself, he could See trails of energy between Heralds and their Companions and each other.

Poor Christa had chased him around for the better part of two years before she'd been able to bed him. He'd been as interested as any fifteen year old would be, but he hadn't been able to get past the fear that being skin to skin with another person caused him. Until he realized that he could tell a Herald by how they Felt in his head. That had been about the same time he'd started being able to sense the Death Bell

It had gotten easier as he had gotten older--he half suspected that the gossip of his sister Heralds was responsible for that. Most of the lady Heralds he bedded these days didn't seem surprised by his habit, and were willing to let the matter drop as Destria was.

In his relationship with Elspeth, it hadn't been an issue. Elspeth didn't dare spend the night in his room. When he was in residence, they'd have dinner in his room once or twice a week. She never stayed more than a candlemark or two. Since receiving her Whites, she had been far less conspicuous in the Heralds wing than she had been in Grays. He'd always found it a vague source of amusement that all of the speculation involving the Heir and illicit love affairs centered around every male she spent time with other than himself. Most of that was intentional--he had discovered when he was in Karse that he could still people's suspicions about him with his Gift. He realized he'd been doing that unconsciously for years, even before he was Chosen

Talia had told Neave years ago, that Selenay knew about the two of them almost from the beginning and appreciated Neave's discretion.

Idly, Neave wondered about this new lover Elspeth had. For a long time, before Elspeth had gone haring off for foreign parts, she'd been dissatisfied with the friendly bedding relationships she had with Neave and her other lovers. She'd said, more than once, that she wanted someone who could be to her what Dirk was to Talia or Eldan was to Kerowyn. Neave had always felt sorry for Elspeth, as trapped in her role as any street beggar.

"Neave?" Destria's sleepy voice brought him out of his reverie, as he pulled his blankets up over himself.

"Yes?"

"Would you--like to do this again sometime?" she sounded shy and a little vulnerable. She was as uneasy with new lovers as he. Her scars were fairly extensive, although her uniform covered everything but her hand. She'd warned Neave before she'd let him undress her. She hadn't had many lovers since the fire she'd told him, when he'd expressed an interest in her earlier in the evening. As a thought sensor, she could tell when men were repelled by her scars, no matter if they tried to be kind or polite about it.

He'd never been bothered by scars. He'd taken off his shirt first to show her his own. After that, it had gone very well indeed. Now though, Destria was tentative, perhaps fearing that, while Neave might be willing to bed her in the headiness of the victory celebration, he might not want to make it a regular habit.

Neave ran his hand along the side of the cot until he found Destria's hand again, "Oh yes." he said, opening his mind so that she could Sense his sincerity.

***

The next morning, Destria left to continue her messenger rounds, Neave walked her to the front gate, their Companions flanking them, apparently having had a pleasant evening. At the gate, Neave gave her a hug and a relatively chaste kiss, "See you in Haven?" he asked hopefully,

She smiled, :I hope to do more than just _see _you.: she teased.

In reply, he gave her a deeper kiss. She mounted her Companion and rode off. He watched her for a minute, hoping that disbanding the camp wouldn't take all year.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N Some harsher language than I've yet used.**

For once it had stopped raining. The last two months had been punctuated with violent storms that were being blamed on mage weather. Supposedly, some of the mages still in Haven were trying to calm them down.

Neave had orders to return to Haven, but it was not urgent that he get there quickly. He was able to stop if the weather seemed threatening in the afternoons. He generally stayed at the inns along the trade road that were accustomed to serving Heralds, so Kyldathar always had a comfortable stall. She was not unhappy with being fussed over by the inevitable children who wanted to pet and feed her.

This afternoon as Haven came into sight, it was no longer raining, but the sky was low and sullen. Neave hoped they could get in before it started raining again.

:Happy to be home?: he asked Kyldathar as she picked up her pace when they were in a furlong of the city.

:Very happy.: she sighed, :You?:

:I'm not sure.: he replied, :It seems like a lot has changed since we were home last.:

Kyldathar's ears swiveled back towards him, :What do you mean?: she asked.

Neave shifted to sit more comfortably in the saddle, "I think...I think I'm a little uneasy with all these tales about mages." he confessed aloud.

Kyldathar didn't reply in words, but with a mental caress. His dreams had still been ugly since the war ended. Almost every night. They were also somehow different, clearer perhaps. He also thought that there were things he was just on the edge of remembering. Things that he did _not _want to look at.

Now they were home, he would see if Talia had a free candlemark, in the next few days.

He also kept in mind the fact that his fears about mages would probably go away once he actually met one. Most Heralds didn't realize it, but outkingdom they were viewed with the same kind of fear people harbored towards these mages. Neave had been sharply reminded of this from speaking with the various foreign refugees and hearing again the ghost horse and white demon tales from his childhood.

They made it to the Companion's stable just before the storm broke. Neave made Kyldathar comfortable, then headed over to the Palace to check in and find an early dinner in the kitchens.

When Mero, the cook, saw him, Neave found himself very quickly in possession of a full plate of cold meat and cheese and a glass of wine. Not wanting to get in the way of the preparations for the Collegium's dinner, Neave walked up the short stairway to the common room.

A few younger Heralds lounged at one end, chatting. They smiled politely at Neave as he took one of the benches near the hearth. He smiled and nodded back, listening to their gossip as he filled his stomach.

"I've heard that they only mate in groups!" one of the two women was tittering.

"I can't believe that..." whatever the other woman "couldn't believe" was whispered to the three men who were sitting in the group.

Neave wouldn't have continued to listen except that he heard one of the men whisper something about Herald Skif's lady. He didn't know what the gossips were talking about, but he didn't think he cared for the tone they were using in regards to a fellow Herald and his friend.

"I hadn't heard that Herald Skif had brought back a lady." Neave said mildly.

The five young people goggled at him. He noted with a little sadness that this group was so young that it was doubtful they would be in Whites, save for the war.

"You hadn't _heard _?" one of the women gasped in amazement, "Where have you been?"

"Southeastern border. Looking after refugees." he said shortly, "Just got back, this afternoon."

They looked at his travel stained uniform with new respect.

"I heard it was bad out there." the other woman said quietly.

Neave shrugged, "So, I haven't heard much Palace news. I'd heard about mages and gryphons and Herald Elspeth's abdication, but not that Herald Skif had brought back a lady."

That got the younglings smirking again, "Well, Herald, " said the first woman, apparently eager to pass on her stories, "She looked like a cat when she first arrived. Not metaphorically either--I mean fur, eyes, pointy ears. Well something happened and she looks human now. Except that she still has cat eyes..."

One of the men inturrupted, "She's beautiful. You take one look at her and all you can think of is bedding her." he enthused, "I'd love to know if she has a sister." he laughed and the women blushed, their eyes turning a little envious.

"Well, I heard that if you have the gold, you can have her." The first woman said tartly.

"If that's what it takes, I'll give her a year's stipend." The man chortled, "I'm not sure what Skif offered her, but I'd love to find out."

"Better manners than you, I assume." said Neave in the cold off-hand manner that he used to intimidate.

The man had the grace to turn red.

One of the other men jumped in, "Well, she comes from foreign parts with really strange customs. The whole bunch Skif and Elspeth came back with only mate in groups and..."

Neave decided he'd heard enough, "And the women have teeth in their quims and fuck Companions." he said harshly. The younglings stopped cold at his tone and his language, "You know that's the tale they tell about us on the southeastern border. And if you bed a Herald, they steal your soul. I've spent the last six months listening to this exact nonsense. I don't expect to hear the same tired stories at home. At least not from Heralds, who know better. Bad enough to hear it from the Court flibbertigibbets. Downright embarrassing to hear it repeated by someone in Whites." He took a sip of his wine, looking over the rim of his glass at the group who were now shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

"But, Herald," said the first woman finally, "You haven't seen..."

"I've seen enough to know that who another Herald takes to his bed is none of my affair." said Neave, going back to his chilly, mild tone and raising an eyebrow at her, "And that envy is an ugly emotion. Especially in a Herald. At the root of most wild stories is an envious person with too much time on their hands." a calculated pause, "Remember that when you repeat these sort of stories--you wouldn't want to be taken as the originator."

The whole group shrank into themselves. One of the women mumbled something about needing to do something. Neave didn't catch it. The rest agreed and beat a hasty retreat out the door behind Neave. He didn't turn to watch them go.

After a moment, outside of the door the younglings had exited, he heard a noise of shuffling feet, "I haven't gone deaf from being on the border." he said sourly, without turning around. "If you have something to say to me, I suggest you say it."

"How about 'thank you'?" said Skif's familiar voice behind him. Neave turned in surprise, to see Skif, Talia and a stunningly beautiful woman wearing a sword standing in the doorway.


	35. Chapter 35

Neave stood up and embraced first Talia, then Skif, in delight, "Gods! It's good to see you!" he said, "Did that lot see you?"

Skif's eyes were dancing with amusement, "Yes, you should have seen their faces. I was going to call them out, but you beat me to it."

"I hope they won't be surprised when they find themselves replacing the Heralds in the most tedious outposts I can find for them." remarked Talia, whose grin was a little evil.

The woman at Skif's side said in oddly accented Valdemaran, "Thank you for taking up for us, Herald...?" Neave assumed from this that this was the lady Skif had brought back with him, by the way they stood so closely together.

"I'm Neave," he said, extending his hand. There _was _something vaguely catlike about the woman. And when he looked into her green eyes, he was surprised to see the pupils were slitted like a cat. He studied her face to remember it, to draw later. She extended her own hand and he kissed it formally, "I'm afraid, I don't know your name."

"I'm called Nyara." she said, smiling.

She was amazing when she smiled. She was probably the most beautiful woman Neave had ever seen, but there were lines around her mouth and between her eyebrows that spoke of both fear and grief. Neave noticed that when he let go of her hand, it drifted toward the pommel of her sword. She moved like someone who could take care of herself, yet her manner was a little shy and uncertain. He guessed that her beauty had not brought her life much happiness.

"I beg your pardon, if you heard that, Nyara." he said, "I'm afraid that those children let their mouths run away with them. Don't judge them too harshly, sometimes younglings have no idea how hurtful their stories can be."

Talia sighed and nodded, "I'm afraid you're only too right. We had to pass a whole year group into Whites a year early, to cover the Courts and routine things. They're competent enough at their duties, but a little immature. I think I'll ask Rolan to have a word with their Companions about it." she said apologetically to Skif and his lady.

Skif was beaming at Neave now, "I'm just happy we got to hear you take a strip out of them--and then to have them walk right into us. I thought the look on Talia's face was enough to to petrify them right where they stood."

"They'll probably quit running their mouths, for a while at least." Neave said.

"We were just going up to my rooms. Would you like to join us?" asked Talia.

Neave smiled, "Oh, yes." he said, "Where's Dirk and Jemmy tonight?" referring to Talia's little boy.

"Dirk's gone to take him to see the grandparents," Talia smiled, "Since the war ended, he finally had time to spend with them."

"But not you?" Neave asked.

Talia shrugged, "You know how it is. I'll go next time."

"See you do." Skif mock growled, "Otherwise we might have to tie you to Rolan's saddle to get you to take some leave time."

Talia laughed.

It was nice how they fell back into the rhythms of their friendship. It was good to spend the evening catching up with Skif and Talia, without waiting for a crisis. They spent a pleasant candlemark, sharing a few bottles of wine

"Do you know Skif well?" asked Nyara at one point, when Skif was telling Talia some outrageous story that Neave had lost the thread of. She was curled up next to Skif on Talia's couch. Neave sat on the other side of her.

"He was probably the first friend I ever had." Neave replied, "Well, that was anywhere near my age. I think he was the one who managed to convince me that this was all real." he waved his hand vaguely to indicate the Palace.

"What were you before you were Chosen?" she asked innocently,

He hesitated a breath before replying, "I was born in a brothel in Hardorn. I lived there until I was about fourteen." he said quietly.

"Brothel? I don't think I know the word..." she turned to Skif and asked him something in a series of long liquid syllables. He glanced at Neave and replied in kind.

Neave wasn't sure what had prompted him to tell her that. It was strange that it seemed so natural. Perhaps it was just sitting here with Talia and Skif. Or perhaps he'd had more wine than was strictly prudent and it had loosened his tongue somewhat. He hoped Nyara wouldn't be too bothered by it.

She asked Skif another question and he again replied in that foreign tongue. Neave wasn't sure he could tell where one word stopped and the next began, but it was pretty to listen to.

Nyara turned back to him, "I'm sorry, there's still many words I still don't understand in your tongue. So. Your Companion brought you here?" she didn't look bothered in the least bit, which was encouraging.

"No, actually. I'd been injured and some Heralds had to come rescue me." he'd only ever told this story once before, to Talia. He glanced at Talia curled up in her chair. She smiled at him encouragingly and Skif looked interested. He began with Kira's suicide. Whenever he thought of it, Kira's death was always tangled up with Kyldathar Choosing him.

He finished, explaining how he and Ylsa had stayed at the Guard post until he was fit to travel. Talia, Skif and Nyara were quiet for a moment.

Finally, Skif asked the question Neave knew he would, "So how did..."

"I get in that state?" Neave said. Skif nodded soberly.

Neave sighed, "Ancar. And Ancar's mages."

Skif looked at him quizzically, but Talia said, very quietly, "Neave had the bad luck to be one of Ancar's experiments. Didn't even remember until after Ancar had killed Alessandar. He let Kyril trigger the memory. We would have lost that first battle to the mage demons if he hadn't."

"I wondered how you came by those scars." Skif said.

They were quiet again, until Neave said, "Well, I'm just glad the bastard's dead. And I hope he's rotting in hell. "

The others murmured agreement.

To change the subject, Neave asked, "So what's Elspeth's gentleman like?"

Skif smiled, "Darkwind? He's--hard to explain. You know he's a mage?"

Neave nodded,

"He started out teaching Elspeth magery and they just ended up together all the time." Skif shook his head, "They seem very good for each other."

"She's a lot less prickly than she was before she left. And I think, much happier since she's abdicated." said Talia, "I like Darkwind very much."

Neave smiled, "That's nice. I'm glad she's found someone she can have a proper relationship with. It was always so hard for her, having to be so damned discreet--I didn't mind much, but no one was much interested in gossiping about _me_."

After a second Neave realized he that he had indeed had more wine than was prudent. Skif swivled around to look at him with eyes wide, "Wait. You and _Elspeth_?"

Neave felt his face go red, "I--yes. I assumed you knew."

Skif seemed about to say something but Nyara caught his eye and they both started howling with laughter.

Neave looked as Talia, but she just shook her head and shrugged.

After a few moments, Skif and Nyara got some control over their laughter, "I'm a complete and utter fool." Skif said, shaking his head. "So tell me, how long were you and she sharing blankets?"

With a half glance at Talia who shrugged, still puzzled, Neave replied, "Since, well...since she and I were looking after Talia, before you got back with Dirk." Neave had the urge to explain himself, "I mean, only when I was here and when neither of us were seeing anyone else...It was never more than friendly. What's so funny?" he finished rather plaintively as Nyara giggled again. Skif just shook his head.

"I'm a fool. You just brought home to me how much of one." Skif smiled and Nyara took his hand possessively, "And you, of course, always knew?" Skif said to Talia.

Talia blushed a little, "It's awfully hard to avoid knowing, sometimes."

Skif shook his head again, "That will teach me to never, ever make assumptions." He looked at Neave, still amused, "It's just that, when we were off alone, I made some assumptions about Elspeth that caused some-ahh--friction--between us. I thought, at the time, she was overreacting...Now, I'm admiring her restraint in not killing me."

Skif never explained more than that and the conversation moved on to the gryphons and the other wonders. It was good to see Skif laugh like that. Neave thought that Skif was the most relaxed he'd seen him in years. Something had darkened Skif's spirit for a long time, but Nyara had certainly helped him recover it.

Finally, Neave found himself nodding a little, "I think I need to find my bed." He said standing up, "If I don't, I'll fall asleep where I sit."

Talia stood up to give him a hug goodnight, "You Feel a little ragged, my friend." she whispered, "Perhaps we could talk tomorrow?"

He replied in her ear, "I think that would be a good idea."

Nyara surprised him by giving him a tight hug. As did Skif.

Kyldathar had shielded him out some time earlier in the evening, but now she was back. Sleepily she wished him goodnight.

Some of the servants had aired out his room when he checked in and there was a small stack of messages waiting on his desk. When he was at a posting or on circuit, messages could be delivered, but he had been on the road for two weeks, so they came here to wait for him.

With a sigh of relief he threw the bolt on the door. Without bothering to do more than take off his boots he collapsed into his bed and was asleep before his head hit the pillow


	36. Chapter 36

Neave woke very early the next morning. He pulled the knife from the sheath still strapped to his thigh, peering around the room in a panic.

:Chosen. You're dreaming: Kyldathar called to him.

"Dream." he gasped "Right." his hand shook as he sheathed his knife. His chest was tight and his face wet. He thought he'd been crying in his sleep. He couldn't remember what the dream had been about.

The light was grey outside his window. He gathered up some clean clothes and went to get a bath. This early, there'd be no competition. A hot bath was often helpful to shake off the nightmares. Especially the ones he couldn't remember. :Did you happen to see what I was dreaming about?: he asked Kyldathar as he ran the hot water.

:No Chosen.: she sounded troubled. Since the mage barrier had fallen, his dreams were worse than they had ever been, but he couldn't remember them at all. Nor had Kyldathar been able to catch them. They lasted only a moment before he woke up, drenched in sweat more often than not.

He probably wasn't the only one suffering from bad dreams, but these felt somehow different from the ones he'd always had before. He was glad Talia could make time to see him. He no longer felt awkward about asking her for help when the dreams bothered him.

Before he went to find breakfast, he glanced through his messages. A few letters from various friends in the field--he noted with pleasure that Destria's handwriting was on one. He opened that first. She was well and would be back in Haven in a few days--and hoped to see him when she got back

A note from Kyril asking him when he could meet to talk about his next assignment. They needed a another Special Courier, and they had an assignment that required someone with his skill set. That usually meant something covert. Kyril suggested that he take a day or two to get his bearings back--it was not a time sensitive assignment.

That sounded ideal to Neave. He'd wondered what he was going to do now that there was a general standing down of war postings. Riding circuit was a young Herald's job and not one Neave had a tremendous amount of experience with. The Courts needed Heralds, of course, but he'd hate to be stuck in one place all the time.

He wrote a reply to Kyril to that he'd like to meet day after tomorrow at Kyril's convenience, put the message aside to give to a page on his way to breakfast.

There was one with handwriting Neave didn't recognize, as he was opening it, someone knocked at his door.

When he opened the door, Elspeth stood there grinning. A much changed Elspeth. Her hair had streaks of white a thumblength wide at the temples and her soft brown eyes had lightened to a hazel. She was dressed in Whites that were barely recognizable as such. She wore a long tunic--longer than most of the women Heralds wore. A V-neck emphasized the length of her neck and slightly belled sleeves made her broad shoulders take on a more graceful proportion. Always lean from sparring and riding, the clothes had the effect of making her look softer but not any less impressive.

Behind her was a white haired, blue eyed man with a falcon sitting on his shoulder. He was dressed in green, but his clothes looked like they'd been designed by the same hand.

Before Neave could do more than stutter out a greeting, Elspeth caught Neave in a hug, "It is so good to see you!" she said, "Talia just told me you were here," she let go of him and turned to the man behind her, "Neave this is Darkwind, my..." she hesitated over the word. Neave guessed that they were still trying to work out the logistics of their relationship. Plus introducing one's current lover to one's former lover could always be a little awkward, no matter the circumstances.

Neave raised an eyebrow and supplied, "Your, 'long term sparring partner'?" he grinned at her.

She covered her mouth and giggled, nodding. The man look amused and extended his hand which Neave took.

"Well, don't stand in the corridor," said Neave, "Come in."

"We only have a few minutes, but I'm so glad to see you." said Elspeth stepping in and taking a seat at the desk. Darkwind sat at her feet, since there was only one other chair, which Neave took, "I'd heard you'd been sent to herd civilians around on the southern border. I'm glad you made it home. We lost so many down there."

Neave nodded soberly, "It was bad for a while. Lost a lot of good people."

Darkwind was looking curiously at Neave. He had very intense eyes, Neave thought. Here was someone else Neave needed to draw. Then the man looked around, taking in the room that was decorated mostly with Neave's pinned up drawings. "You're the artist?" he asked.

Neave shrugged and nodded grinning, "Just an amateur. It's good to have something to do when you're on duty in some Goddess forsaken corner of the kingdom."

The corner of Darkwind's mouth quirked up, "Are there many of those?" his accent was similiar to Nyara's.

"No, but they keep sending me there." Neave replied lightly, returning the smile. "So what have they got you doing now that you're no longer the Heir?" Neaves asked.

"Mostly identifying and teaching our new crop of Herald-mages." replied Elspeth.

"And I think we'll have a new student soon." said Darkwind.

Elspeth looked down at Darkwind then up at Neave, "Oh." she looked surprised, then smiled, "Neave, you've got the mage gift."

Neave felt like someone had poured cold water over his head. His breath caught for a moment. "I-I beg your pardon?" he stuttered.

Elspeth smiled some more, "Its hard to take in, I know." she said understandingly, "But don't you have a little Farsight?"

"N-not enough to be useful. It helps me see in the dark but..." he trailed away.

"That's because it's not Farsight, it's Magesight." Elspeth told him patiently, "Living things glow, yes?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice.

"That's Magesight," said Darkwind, "And you can learn to use that energy if you can See it."

The first bell of the day rang. Elspeth and Darkwind stood quickly, "Hell, we'll be late if we don't go now." said Elspeth, she bent over Neave as he still sat thunderstruck. She kissed his cheek, "We'll talk later, I know its an awful shock."

He grasped her wrist for a moment as she bent over him, "Don't...don't mention it to anyone just yet." he said softly, "I need to think about this."

She smiled understanding and they were gone.

Neave noticed that his hands were shaking. He clenched them, then relaxed them.

:Chosen?: said Kyldathar very softly,

:I suppose it's too early in the day to start drinking?: asked Neave rhetorically. He felt like he was back in one of his nightmares. He sat for another moment willing his stomach to calm down.

:Would you ask Rolan to tell Talia I need to talk?: He asked Kyldathar. He pulled on his riding boots, picked up the note to Kyril. The longer he sat, the more the room felt as if it were closing in on him. :Tell her to find us out in the Field whenever she gets free.:


	37. Chapter 37

Talia was halfway through her morning meeting with Selenay when Rolan sent her an image of Neave and a feeling of foreboding. Because of the way Talia's Gift worked, she hardly ever got messages in words from Rolan, unless they were both tranced. It tended to give both of them a headache.

Kyril, who studied Gifts with a passion, hypothesized that her Empathy was so strong that it left no room for Mindspeech. He was just the opposite--probably the strongest Mindspeaker in the Circle, but completely unable to receive anything other than words, unless the other person was strongly projective.

She wound up her business in the meeting, explaining that she was needed elsewhere. Selenay and Kyril gave her a knowing look. Many of the Heralds returning from their posts needed the help of a Mindhealer these days. Selenay had arranged for some of the duties traditionally belonging to the Queen's Own Herald to be transferred to other senior Heralds, so she'd be able to answer summons like these.

Rolan was waiting for Talia at the fence, in the drizzle. He was worried, more so than was usual when they received these kind of requests. Apparently, Kyldathar was quite frightened. Talia climbed up onto his back, Rolan heading off to the Companion's stable where most of the in residence Companions were waiting out the rain.

Neave sat with Kyldathar and his ever present sheaf of paper. He looked up when she tapped on the open door of the stall, smiled in welcome.

"I wasn't expecting you'd be able to get away so soon." he said. On the surface, he looked serene enough, but Neave had spent years out in the field, in positions where controlling his emotions was often a matter of survival. Talia probed Neave's shields cautiously. They were tight and hard--whatever was happening to him, he really didn't want it getting out, "I hope I didn't get you away from anything important."

"No," she smiled gently back, "At the moment, a lot of people need to talk. We've tried to make it a priority." letting him know he wasn't the only one suffering from heartwoundedness.

He nodded, but didn't speak. Kyldathar whickered uneasily. Talia came in and sat next to him. Rolan touched Kyldathar's nose before he walked back up to his own stall.

Neave bent his head back to his drawing. He always said he thought better when he had something to do with his hands. She waited for him to find words.

"I saw Elspeth this morning." He said, at last. He'd let his shields soften enough that she could Feel the emotions that went with the words, "And met Darkwind." he was fearful, almost phobic when he spoke of them.

Odd, considering how long he and Elspeth had been friends.

"They said I had a Mage Gift." He said it flatly, his voice emotionless, but the fear in him spiked. That made some sense; being told that you had a heretofore unknown Gift was frightening to many.

"And that frightens you?" she said.

He nodded, "Do you suppose there's a way to get rid of it?"

"I don't know. Why do you want to?" She concentrated on soothing the sharp edges of his fear, "It seems like it's just another Gift."

He looked at her with haunted eyes, "I'd like to get rid of it." nausea and despair joined the fear, "I've been having terrible dreams since the Mage Barrier fell."

"About what?"

He sighed, "That's half the problem. I don't remember. There's a locked door in my head and I can't find the key. When Elspeth told me--its like the nightmares became real." Kyldathar shivered although Neave held himself perfectly still. He breathed in the rhythm of the calming exercises they were all taught.

"I'll do what can to help." Talia said, "Although, if its something to do with a Mage Gift, perhaps we should talk to one of the mages."

"NO." Neave said, sharply, loudly, "I won't have mages mucking about in my head, again." Talia drew back a little, surprised at his tone and what she was Feeling from him. Someone less controlled than he would be curled up with terror, now. She Felt him grab wildly for Kyldathar with his mind. Kyldathar touched Neave's shoulder with her nose.

:Please, Talia,: a feminine voice pleaded in her head, :I've never Felt him so afraid. I don't know what to do.: Talia stared at Kyldathar, astonished and wondering if Kyldathar was going to pay for that with a nasty headache later.

From Rolan, Talia received a feeling of affimation to that thought. He'd come back to stand behind her and lend her some support.

"Neave?" Talia said slowly, as his last statement sunk in, "What do you mean 'again'?"

His eyes were a little wild now, "I-I don't know." Talia Felt he was beginning to get a headache--perhaps in reaction to trying to dampen his own projection. She reinforced his shields with her own. Partly for his sake and partly for the sake of anyone walking by.

"All right, let's take this one piece at a time." she said, "Tell me about the dreams?"

"I can't."

"Well, what do they Feel like?" she held out her hands and brushed his shields with her own Gift. Clasping her hands he let her into his mind.

For a horrible frozen second, she felt like she had when she'd been thrown into the river. A breath later, Rolan was there, anchoring her against being swept up by his fear. She took a long breath, steadying herself. The images moved too quickly to catch. The feelings were of entrapment, terror, suffocation. And then, just as he described it, a locked door. Talia had assumed he was being metaphorical, but that was the exact image. Like the images they used to direct their Mind Magic, this image seemed to have a purpose.

She pushed at it with a mental hand--it seemed like a part of his mind was blocked off from the rest. But this was the source of the nightmares.

She came back to herself, "I've never Seen anything like that." she said slowly.

Neave sighed again, "Am I going mad?" he asked, dully, "I always thought I might." he meant it.

Talia squeezed the hands she was still holding, "No, little brother. I've been in mad people's minds. They Feel nothing like this." She thought for a few moments, "It can't be a coincidence."

"What can't?"

"That the nightmares have gotten worse since the Mage Barrier fell. And you have a Mage Gift." she paused, bit her lip in thought, "Would you mind if I spoke to Elspeth, at least?"

Neave _did _mind, from what Talia could Feel. Reluctantly he nodded, perhaps because Elspeth was another Herald, or simply because it was Elspeth. He let go of Talia's hands to pick up the half finished drawing he'd been working on.

"May I see?" asked Talia, she had found that the seemingly random acts of a person in crisis often held the keys to helping them.

Neave shrugged and handed her the drawing. It was a dark haired woman, "Oh, I've seen her." said Talia, "She's lovely. I thought she was older though."

Talia didn't understand the wash of renewed fear and a strange longing. Now, Neave's feelings were plain on his face, "That's impossible." his eyes were wide, "You couldn't have seen her."

"She's with the mages Kerowyn brought. A White Winds mage, I think." replied Talia confused.

Neave cleared his throat, "It can't be her. I-I'm sure it must be just someone who looks like her." He said it confidently enough, but the longing grew stronger, accompanied by the bite of grief.

"I can send someone to find her, if it's that important. But why?" she asked, mystified.

He took the drawing back from Talia, looking at it "That's Mara."


	38. Chapter 38

Lizette noticed the Herald speaking to one of the others at the end of the class she was teaching. She saw them both glance at her, then the Herald made her way towards her. The mage's heart jumped into her throat as the Herald came within speaking distance.

"Excuse me, Lady mage," said the woman, politely "The Queen's Own Herald Talia would like to speak with you, in her office."

Lizette's heart fell from her throat to the vicinity of her boots. She drew herself up, hiding her fear and did her best to look every inch the haughty mage, "And what possible reason would Herald Talia have to speak to me?" she asked, a little coldly.

The woman shrugged, "I'm not sure, lady, but she says it's fairly urgent. If you could come this way?" indicating the door.

"A moment, Herald." Lizette said, thinking fast. She could think of only one reason to be summoned to speak with the Queen's Own. She walked to the other teaching mage, one of her friends from the White Winds School, "Would you tell Sabeera that I have gone to speak with the Queen's Own? She should look for me if I'm not back in half a candlemark." she lowered her voice, "Tell her that it may be the complication she and I feared."

He nodded and said quietly, "Should you need any help, remember you can depend on us. And the Herald Captain will take up for you--the Queen can't..." he shut his mouth with a snap as the Herald came up behind them.

Lizette gathered her robes around her, following the Herald. She began the simplest of the mind calming exercises in order to get control of her shaking hands. Every step she took to the office of the Queen's Own felt like a step towards her own execution, even so.

The Herald walked them past the guards who stood by the doors to the restricted section of the Palace. Lizette remembered visiting, years ago. While she had been here as a mage, she had avoided leaving the Collegium proper.

They came to a closed door, which the Herald knocked.

"Come." called a woman's voice. Lizette had avoided catching the eye of any Heralds as much as possible, although that was being a little paranoid, she knew. She had never been near the Queen's Own.

Two Heralds stood when they entered. The desk was against the wall, rather than in the middle of the room. The rest of the office was appointed like a small sitting room with a couch and a few chairs to sit comfortably in. This was not surprising, as the Queen's Own tended to hold more informal meetings in her office, as opposed to the formal ones held in the Queen's offices.

The woman, obviously the Herald Talia, was short and curly haired. She wore fairly ordinary Whites with only a little extra in the way of silver braid to denote rank. She smiled at Lizette. The man was tall and red haired with a tense, worried expression. He was upset about something, but it showed only in the set of his jaw and the crease between his eyebrows.

The Herald who had led Lizette here bowed slightly to Herald Talia and left, closing the door behind her.

Talia sat and the other Herald sat. Talia indicated one of the chairs inviting Lizette to sit.

The man stared at Lizette, his face didn't move but Lizette noticed that he grasped the arms of the chair tightly.

Glancing at the man, Talia said, "You are called Lizette?"

"Yes, Herald." Lizette said haughtily, although she wasn't sure how much she was hiding from the Queen's Own, given what she'd heard about the woman's Empathic abilities.

The man seemed to inhale rather sharply. Lizette wondered what he knew. He wasn't nearly old enough to recognize her from before.

"Did you--did you ever go by any other names?" asked the Queen's Own carefully.

Caught.

There was only one thing Lizette could think to do now. She rose to her feet, almost involuntarily. Talia rose too, although the man appeared transfixed, "Yes, Herald, I have. And you may tell my husband that, though we may not have a divorcement, I am not the child I was when I fled. Nothing will induce me to be his wife, even in name, and I will not give over the rights of myself or my property."

Herald Talia stared at her, turned to the man who was shaking his head incredulously.

"I'm sorry?" Talia said turning back to Lizette, "I don't think I understand."

Lizette sat down, slowly, as she realized her little speech had been wasted. These two had no idea what she was talking about.

Finally, the man seemed to find his voice, "Mara? You don't know me, do you?"

It was a good thing Lizette was already sitting. She stared at the man, his voice had deepened to a pleasant baritone. He was taller than she would have imagined, but she suddenly saw the blue eyes and long nose that had once been familiar to her.

"Neave?" she whispered, "I-" she swallowed, "You're so tall."

They both sat, unable to move or speak beyond that, for a moment.

The Queen's Own cleared her throat and they broke off their shocked staring.

"I take it you used to be called Mara?" said Talia gently.

"Yes." now her hands shook for a different reason.

"It's nearly dinnertime," said Talia, "I missed my nooning and so did Neave. Why don't I go get something sent up?", she turned and tactfully left the room. Lizette wondered if she'd walk down to the kitchen's herself to give them some time to greet each other properly.

But what was one to say after fourteen years?

Neave stood as Talia left. Sat in the chair closer to her. "How long have you been here?" he asked, at last.

"I came with Kerowyn's mages. They sent out a call to all the White Winds schools. I-I've been teaching at one." She couldn't tell what Neave was thinking. She wasn't sure if their meeting was likely to bring him pleasure or pain. She hoped he remembered her fondly. She had wondered over the years if he was the first human being she had ever truly loved, apart from her own mother.

"How the _hell_ did you end up a mage?" his voice was shaking with emotion.

"I became too old to whore." she said a little tartly, trying to get the best of her own feelings. This was not, precisely, how she'd pictured their reunion. She's expected some warning for one thing. And somehow she hadn't expected this competent looking man to grow out of the little scrap he had been. It was funny how one's image of people tended to stay frozen in the past.

He opened his mouth. Shut it again. Shook his head, laughing a little and closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he told her, "Today has been very strange."

She nodded, agreeably.

After another minute, she couldn't stand it anymore, though. She leaned across his chair and caught him in a fierce embrace. After a second of surprise, he returned it.

"Gods, I never thought I'd see you again." he said into her hair.

"I thought you were going to get yourself killed, when I heard you were out on the border." she replied, "Damned Heralds. Always trying to be heroes."

He backed away to look into her eyes. She was again oddly surprised to have to look up. "You knew I was there?"

"The posting of Heralds is not exactly a state secret--well, unless it is, I suppose. When I got here, I asked what your status was." she felt her cheeks grow warm, "I hope you don't mind." she finished softly.

"Why didn't you send a message?"

"I did. I-I didn't like to send one to you out there. I was afraid it would go astray." she shrugged, "But I left one to be given to you when you checked in."

He looked like something was making sense, "Oh. I didn't actually finish reading my messages this morning." he smiled crookedly, "I told you, it's been a strange day."

"But then, how did you know I was here?" she'd looked for him in the face of every male Herald she'd seen. She knew she hadn't seen him before now.

He stood and took something off the Queen's Own's desk, handing it to her. It was a portrait of her. At twenty-one.

"Where did you get this?" she gasped, "I never had one made..."

He seemed a little embarrassed, "I drew it. Today. You were on my mind." he spoke in short sentences, as if trying to suppress tears, "Talia saw it. She said she'd seen you. I didn't think it could be, but..." he sniffed, stopped.

"Oh." She looked at the drawing. She couldn't believe his memory of her was that flattering.

Someone knocked and the door opened. Two servants bearing trays came in, setting them on the desk, "Herald Talia begs your indulgence, milady," said the older of the two to Lizette, "She has short errand and asks that you and the Herald await her until she returns."

They left and Lizette stood, her stomach flipping over, "Where's she gone to, Neave?" she demanded.

He stood too, "I'm not sure. What are you afraid of?" he took her cold hands into his own and drew her to sit on the couch, next to him.

"I'm afraid my husband will find out I'm here." she told him desperately, "He has never remarried, so under the laws, we're still married. He'd love to be able to claim a wife who was a mage." she heard her own voice turn bitter, "He'd view it as a way to prove his manliness. I-I guess I'd assumed when I came back that he would have found another wife. Apparently the old toad can't convince anyone else's father to turn over their darling daughters to him."

"Mara -- Lizette, calm down. Talia won't tell anyone you're here without your leave, I swear." He let go of her hands, went over to the table and poured two glasses of wine. Returned to sit beside her, handed her one of them.

Her hand still shook as she drank it, "I hope you're right Neave," she said darkly. If the Herald Talia had gone to find someone to take her back to her husband there was nothing Lizette could do, "If you're not, I swear, there will be murder done before this day is out."

Neave shook his head, draining his own glass, "This day just keeps getting stranger."


	39. Chapter 39

It was a little while before Talia returned. The servants came in to light candles. Neave and Lizette sat quietly together. There was so much to say that Neave couldn't think how to begin. Finally, he asked "So how _did _you become a mage?"

"You remember the old witchwife?" asked Lizette.

Neave nodded.

"She wasn't just a hedge witch. She was a White Winds mage." Lizette smoothed her robes over her knees, "White Winds mages don't look for patrons. We're bound to using our Gifts for the good of others. She had a couple good Healing spells and made her living that way. She spotted my mage gift almost the moment I set foot in that town. She taught me what she could and when I had the gold for passage, she sent me off to Menmellith with letters of introduction to the White Winds school she had gone to."

"How long did you take to make the gold?" asked Neave quietly, wondering how long she had been trapped in that terrible place.

Lizette smiled, "That woman Herald gave me all the gold she carried, as did the other two. I left with the spring caravans."

"I don't remember that." said Neave surprised.

Lizette snorted softly, "You were not up to noticing your surroundings much. I gave you enough poppy to put down a strong man and the woman entranced you." she looked away, Neave wondered that the memory was so painful, "I'm sorry, Neave" she said softly.

"For what?"

"I..."

Just then there was a loud knock at the door. Neave stood and opened it. Herald Captain Kerowyn stood there, flanked by a man in mage robes and a woman wearing dark brown riding leathers. The man looked grim, the woman tense. Kerowyn looked harrassed.

"Is the Queen's Own here, Herald?" Kerowyn asked.

"No, but she'll be back soon. Do you need her?" Neave wondered why Kerowyn just didn't have her Companion ask Rolan.

"It's not her I want." said the woman sharply, "More to the point, is Lizette here?"

Lizette jumped from the couch, "Sabeera!" she went to the woman and took her hand, drawing her into the room.

Kerowyn sighed and turned to the man, "You see, she's fine. No one's holding anyone hostage." she turned to Neave, "I've been having a minor mage rebellion. They wouldn't believe me until they saw for themselves."

"Joshel," said Lizette, "It's all right, for now, I think. We just have some personal business to take care of." she looked at Neave, "Can Sabeera stay?" she entreated.

"Of course." said Neave. Sabeera put her arm protectively around Lizette.

The man, Joshel, nodded curtly, "If you say so, I'll go." he turned to Kerowyn, "If I don't see her at breakfast, I will be looking for her again."

"Oh please, have her back by breakfast. I don't need this lot at my throat." Kerowyn growled softly as they turned to walk away.

Before Neave could draw back into the room, Talia and Myste came hurrying down the corridor, "I'm sorry I was so long," Talia said, "It's nigh impossible to find a clerk this time of day. They see me coming and they hide." Talia smiled, "Fortunately Myste is free. She knows how to draw up the documents and she can witness them. I think Neave has a conflict of interest here, anyway."

"Documents? What documents?" asked Sabeera suspiciously.

Talia ushered them all back into her office and shut the door behind her. The small room was a little crowded with five of them, "I'm sorry, Lady," Talia said politely to Sabeera, "We haven't been introduced," she held out her hand.

The woman wiped her hand on her thigh and took Talia's hand, "Sabeera." she said shortly.

"I'm Herald Talia." She smiled, "And this is Herald Myste. And Herald Neave." she indicated that they should sit, "I thought we could get the simpler things out of the way first."

Myste sat at the desk, putting down the papers she'd been carrying, taking out her pen case.

"What documents do you want drawn up?" asked Neave, confused. Lizette sat on the couch with Neave on one side and Sabeera on the other. Neave could feel her trembling.

"Application for a Decree of Divorcement. Although, if the marriage had no issue perhaps it should be Decree of Marital Annulment," Myste said in her 'clerk' voice,

"N-no. It was...consumated." Lizette's voice shook.

Talia pulled up her chair, took Lizette's hands, "Do you want a divorcement?." she asked.

Lizette nodded, her chin trembling.

"I'll need some information," asked Myste, "What was your marital name?"

"Bethany Tavist."

Neave looked at her surprised. Lord Tavist had extensive lands and holdings near the eastern border. She would have been a very rich woman, then. He remembered the silk dress Mara had owned, suddenly. The fabric had probably been worth enough to buy a small holding. He had always thought that his memory must have been playing tricks on him though.

Myste nodded as if that made sense to her. "Old bastard would have to give back your dowry if he divorced you for abandonment." she said softly. More loudly she asked, "And the reason for the application?"

"Abuse." said Lizette in a very small voice.

"Can you describe the nature of the abuse?" Myste said gently.

Lizette looked first at Sabeera who gave her a nod, then at Neave. Talia still sat in front of her, holding her hands.

"Oh." Lizette was trembling hard enough to shake the couch. There was very little of the proud mage or even the hardened prostitute in her now, "He...I..."

"Is all this really necessary?" demanded Sabeera roughly.

She was asking Talia, but it was Myste who answered, "It would be better if it couldn't be appealed."

Lizette took a long breath, blew it out slowly. Perhaps Talia was helping, because her trembling eased, "I married him when I was sixteen. My father had arranged it." she said in a flat voice, "Father said it was a good marriage for him, politically. I went to my marital bed a virgin. My lord husband was...not gentle."

Sabeera put her arm around Lizette again, rubbing her shoulder, "I didn't realize at the time that my lord husband had...specific...tastes." Lizette continued.

"Meaning?" asked Myste.

"That he liked to cause pain, Herald." Lizette looked up now, "When I spoke to my mother about it, she said that I would become accustomed to it. I was too ashamed to speak to the Healers. He was unhappy with me because he did not get me with child, at first. He came to me every night, but I did not become pregnant. My moontimes had not been regular and the Healer reckoned that was the reason.

"He also thought I was too forward. Too gregarious. I was a spoiled child. Whatever I ordered the staff to do, he found fault with. He told me the housekeeper had been running the house well enough and I should leave be. He had a bad temper, and when he was angry, everyone was careful to stay out of his way."

"When I finally became pregnant, I thought this would make him pleased with me."

She stopped. Closed her eyes. "I was thrilled and giddy when the Healer told me. I was three moons gone and my lord husband would have an heir. I was so pleased that I spoke overmuch to the groom who saddled my horse, apparently."

"My lord husband did not like for me to speak to men. He had told me before. My charms were his alone. Bought and paid for." she opened her eyes, "When he found us out in the barn together, he was beside himself. He sent the groom away. He dismissed the groom for impertinence, I found out later. He'd struck me before, often. This was the first time he beat me.

"I begged him to stop. I told him what the Healer told me. He did stop. He was so pleased. He begged my pardon and carried me to the Keep.

"He told the servants that I'd fallen from my horse. He also told them not to bother with a Healer. It was just a tumble. That night, when I started to bleed, he told me I'd lied about the pregnancy."

Myste made a sharp movement with her hand, nearly spilling her ink.

"He finished the job he'd meant to do that afternoon. Then he saddled a horse and left for Haven. He said he was so disgusted with me, he couldn't bear to look at my face anymore. In the morning, my maid called in a Healer, because the bed was soaked in blood."

"Why did no one call a Herald?" Talia asked.

Lizette looked down, shamefaced,"I told the Healer not to. My father had always told me that Garthesers needed no help from Heralds. And that they were not to be trusted--half of them were just jumped up lowborn swine."

Myste and Neave looked sharply at one another, Lord Gartheser had been removed from the High Council at the beginning of the war.

"And then it became very strange." Lizette shook her head, "I lost the pregnancy and the Healer said that there was an infection in my womb. It rendered me barren actually. I ran a very high fever. The Healer thought she was going to lose me. I didn't die, but I think the fever woke up the Mage Gift. I started _seeing _things. And then I realized I could affect the things I was seeing. But after that, I felt eyes on me all the time. I thought I was mad."

"The Mage Barrier." said Talia.

"Indeed." repleid Lizette dryly, "I just assumed my lord husband had set a watch on me. As soon as I was well enough, I took everything that I thought I could sell and took my horse. I sold my horse in the first Hardornen town I came to and took a passage on a caravan. When I ran out of money, I decided to take one of the men up on his offer to bed me for money." she swallowed, "Imagine my surprise when I discovered it was less terrible than being bed by my husband."

"Myste, do you have enough for the Application for Decree?" asked Talia.

Myste nodded, "Yes, Talia" she'd taken copious notes.

"I think it would be best if you take that to Selenay this evening, if you don't mind. Tell her, I've verified the testimony." Talia needed no Truth Spell to tell if someone was lying about something like this. "Ask her if she could have her secretary make out the Decree in the morning."

"You know," said Myste, mildly as she gathered her things together, "Alberich and I haven't much to do at the moment. Perhaps we could deliver the Decree to Lord Tavist." she gave Neave a wicked smile.

"I may do it myself." Talia said in a hard voice.

Lizette was trembling again, "Herald, did I understand you aright? Did you say the Queen might grant the Decree in the morning?"

Talia sat back, "I don't see why not. You fled the marriage some years ago, to circumstances that no one who was not desperate would go to. I wish you'd made the application when you returned. I would have liked to have spared you the anxiety."

"He'll fight it." said Sabeera worriedly, "He'll not want to give those lands back. And what authority do you have to guarantee a Crown decree, Herald?"

Lizette hastened to cut Sabeera off, "Herald Talia, Sabeera's from Menmellith. I'm sorry..."

Talia smiled gently again, "I have certain priviliges. In something like this, Selenay won't overrule me. And anyway, it seems only right, given how much Lizette has done for the Crown. Lord Tavist can hardly stir himself to pay his taxes."

"I just taught a few mage classes" said Lizette, "That's hardly..."

"And provided aid and comfort to one of the finest Heralds Valdemar has ever had." said Talia.

Neave thought she was laying it on a bit thick. He felt his cheeks turn bright red, "Talia..." he said embarrassed.

"It's only the truth." Talia said firmly, "Now, I think we should move on to the more difficult matters. However, I notice that you haven't touched the food." She fixed Neave with a glare that reminded him incongruously of the ones Kyldathar gave him, "Brother mine," she said, "Either you eat something now, or I will put you in a trance and pour something down your throat."


	40. Chapter 40

Talia filled a plate for each of them with her own hands. as she did so. Neave realized that he hadn't actually eaten that day. Out in the field it was common for him to skip meals. He generally didn't do so at the Palace.

Neave noticed that Sabeera kept giving him furtive looks. Lizette accepted her plate from Talia with an air of confusion, "Herald?"

"Yes?" said Talia graciously,

"What did you want of me? You said we needed to move on to the difficult matters?" Lizette shook her head, "I don't know what you mean."

Talia glanced at Neave, then at Sabeera,"I beg your pardon, but it's something of a private matter. My thought was that perhaps we could discuss it after we finish eating?"

"I'm not sure..." Lizette stopped, looked at Neave, "Oh."

Sabeera still looked suspicious, as she sat down to eat. Neave was finding himself warming to her, even so. It was clear that she was a fighting woman, it was even clearer that she felt that she was responsible for Lizette's welfare.

"How long have you been together?" asked Neave.

Sabeera blushed little but Lizette smiled and took her hand, "Ten years."

"I'm glad." he smiled at them.

"Do you have anyone, Neave?" asked Lizette.

He wasn't sure how to answer that, "I have some women friends." he shrugged, "The life of a Herald isn't exactly conducive to long term relationships. And I have my Companion."

"You know, my father always said that the Companions were just beasts the Heralds witched." said Lizette, "When I fled my husband's house, I met a Herald on the road. His Companion frightened the life out of me."

"His Companion frightened you? How?" asked Talia, confused.

"To Mage Sight they glow, fit to blind." Lizette shuddered, "And that sense of being watched just became intolerable. I knew after that, my father was dead wrong. After I met the Herald, I kept heading east. I couldn't draw an easy breath until I was well past the border. "

They all focused on their food for a few minutes.

"You know," said Talia slowly, breaking the silence, "Elspeth told me that those with Mage Gift tended to drift out of Valdemar, because of the Mage protections, or else they were Chosen. I never considered what circumstances that 'drifting' would be under. Why did you come back?"

Lizette shook her head, "I was homesick, I guess. They said that the Mage Barrier had fallen, I thought...I'm not sure."

Sabeera smiled a little, for the first time, "She was hoping to see her lad, there. I've heard nothing but 'Neave' since we got here."

Talia grinned at that.

Someone knocked on the door again, "Gods," Talia said, "If this is going to turn into a party, perhaps we should move to a conference room. Come!" she called.

It was a Myste again, grinning, "Selenay's secretary hadn't retired yet. She thought you might like this now." She handed the Decree to Lizette.

Neave looked over Lizette's shoulder, :That's your handwriting.: Neave Mindspoke to Myste, meaning everything but Selenay's signature that made the decree official. The Royal Seal was stamped at the bottom, making it legally binding.

Myste didn't reply, just gave him that same wicked grin, "Selenay also asks," said Myste to Lizette, "If it would be acceptable to return your dowry to you in gold, or would you prefer the land titles?"

"I...don't know" Lizette was shocked, "I never considered..."

"Take your time." said Talia, "It doesn't need to be decided now."

Lizette was shaking again. Sabeera had a fierce smile on her face. Obviously this was a much unexpected, much desired outcome. Among the highborn, marriage was as much an economic compact as a personal relationship. Divorce often changed land titles and inheritance rights. At the very least, the woman's dowry must be returned to her if she was over twenty one or her family if she was under. Under normal circumstances this could have taken a year to arrange. Neave was happy that Talia didn't consider these normal circumstances

"Sabeera?" Lizette said, finally, when she had read the document at least ten times.

"Yes, love?"

"Will you take this and keep it safe? And go tell Joshel and the others that everything's fine?" She gave Sabeera the precious Decree.

"Selenay has the other copy." Myste assured them, "And it will go into the records in the morning."

Sabeera stood, looked around at Neave and Talia, bent to hug Lizette, "I'll be in our rooms. I can see there's some family business you need to look after."

When the door had shut behind Myste and Sabeera, Lizette turned to Neave, "Who are you, now Neave?. The Queen's Own is making sure you eat properly and the Herald Chronicler is playing clerk for you." she was somewhere between laughing and crying.

Neave shrugged, embarrassed. He wasn't sure what he'd done to merit such good friends, but he knew he depended on them as much as he depended on Kyldathar. To cover it he picked up the plates from the eaten food and stacked them neatly on the tray.

Something occurred to them as he sat back down, "How did you know Myste was the Herald Chronicler?" he asked curiously.

Talia answered, "She's been driving the mages mad, trying to get them to explain every last detail of what they're doing."

Neave grinned, shook his head. That was Myste, all over.

Talia turned serious, again, "Lizette? We were hoping you could help us. Neave...well..." she seemed to be looking for a way to explain.

"I haven't been right since the Mage Protections fell." said Neave quietly, "And this morning, Elspeth tells me I have a Mage Gift. And it's as if there's a door in my head that I can't..." he trailed off, because Mara (or Lizette as he supposed he should call her) was staring at him with wide eyes and open mouth.

"Lizette?" asked Talia, "What's the matter?"

"A door in your head? As if part of your mind is locked off?" Lizette asked Neave, urgently.

"Well...yes."

Lizette swore softly, "Didn't anyone ever have a Mindhealer Look at you? I just assumed the Heralds...That was never meant to be permanent."

"I'm not following." said Neave.

Talia seemed to be though. She looked from Neave to Lizette then back, "Neave? _Did _Elcarth ever have one of the Mindhealers Look at you?" she asked quietly.

"Not until Kyril... Not until after that first battle with Ancar. And then it was only because I'd started..." he swallowed, "Cutting myself again."

"Does whatever's behind that door have to do with his Mage Gift? Or mages?" asked Talia slowly.

White as chalk, Lizette nodded.

"I'll wager, that if I looked in your Collegium file, Neave." said Talia very slowly, "That I would find notes speculating about whether one should see you, and a whole host of reason why it wasn't a good idea. You, yourself have always been curiously resistant to letting anyone save a Herald into your mind."

"Compulsions work much better if the person has already agreed to them, as well." Lizette said, softly.

Neave suddenly felt a dizzying, horrible pressure building in his head. Talia sensed it immediately and came to sit by him, taking his hand. She somehow insinuated herself between him and the pressure, "All right, Neave." she said softly, "It's been a long day. We can't do anything now. We're all tired. What say we take this up again in the morning?"

He nodded, but couldn't help but add "Talia, I'm sure you have more important things..."

"Shh, little brother. At the moment, my chief duty is to see to the needs of the Circle. Half of us are heartwounded right now." she paused and squeezed his hand, "And even were that not the case, I would make the time for a friend and someone I owed so very much to."


	41. Chapter 41

Neave declined Talia's offer of walking him back to his room, "You'll have everyone thinking you're walking me back because I'm too drunk to find it myself." he said, shaking his head.

She laughed a little, "It wouldn't be the first time I'd done that for someone."

He did allow her to use her Gift to soothe away some of his sharp edges. Kyldathar helped just by being present in his mind, "If you can't find me in the morning, look for me in the Companion's stable." he told Talia. She nodded understanding.

He turned to Lizette. For her, he had no words at all, he just caught her up in a hug that lifted her off the floor before he went to find his bed.

"Lizette?" said Talia after he had gone, "Can I trouble you for a few minutes more?"

"I should think so." said Lizette. Talia felt somewhat out of her depth with all this talk of Mage Gifts. She wanted to get as much information as possible before she tried to do anything with this block or whatever it was.

"I know that terrible things happened to him, as a child, but most of what he's told me is, well..." Talia again found herself groping for words.

"Ordinary enough trauma?" supplied Lizette tightly. She poured herself another glass of wine. Sat back on Talia's couch.

"Yes." agreed Talia, "He told me that Ancar and his mages got ahold of him a couple weeks before he was Chosen. And from what he described the mages were using some kind of blood rites."

"He only remembers the one time, then?" asked Lizette quietly.

That shook Talia, "You mean there were more than that?"

Lizette nodded, "Oh yes, Herald." she said darkly, "Given what he went through that winter, I'm surprised he didn't throw himself into the river. I might have." she pulled her robes more tightly around herself, "The Prince had a hunting lodge nearby the town. He and his men started frequenting Garek's. He always had one of those mages with him. Milia, the old woman who taught me, told me to give no sign I could do any magery around them. She locked herself in her house and pretended she was nothing more than a midwife when they came by."

"They liked the girls at Garek's well enough, although they didn't stick to us. Most of the poor women disappeared off the streets when the Prince's men came around. Some of the well off women too."

"Neave had the misfortune to be a pretty child." Lizette continued, looking at the lit candle on the desk rather than Talia, "Children are strange though--the worst things can happen to them and they somehow bear it. Neave was always resilient." she shrugged.

Talia could Feel how difficult the story was for Lizette to tell. Quite as hard as the tale of her marriage.

"Well, after they visited few times they started taking the girls with them. They-the girls I mean- often came back pretty worse for wear. And then... well, either one of the men took a fancy to him, or one of the mages spotted the boy's Gift. Took him away one night. I don't know what happened to him there. I know they took a town girl with them too. It wasn't for bedsports though. Or at least that's not all they did"

"The girl, she's the one who killed herself, later?" asked Talia.

The mage inclined her head, "Yes. Her father got tired of her...behavior...after a while and sold her to Garek."

"Behavior?"

"She stopped speaking. And then she'd awake the house screaming. It went on for weeks. And of course, every few days, the Prince's men would come, take them away and dump them off sometime later. The well born folk were just glad they left them be." Lizette's eyes never left the candle.

"Why didn't they just take the children and have done with it?"

"I was never sure. Melia thought that it was because they needed them alive and couldn't be bothered to look after them. Or perhaps the unpredictability of it all added to the amusement value." she shook her head, "It was torture enough for me watching the boy as the sun went down, jumping at every sound. He became strange too."

"In what way?" Talia asked carefully.

"He wouldn't sleep at night, after the men caught him napping once. We were night people, but even we slept sometime. Then, he began to do this thing. He would take a kitchen knife and cut himself." Lizette held out her hand and illustrated on the back of it, "Like so." she drew a line with her nail across the back of her hand. "I couldn't understand it. I asked him once if he was planning to do himself in. He told me he did it _because _he wanted to live. It was never deep--it always healed in a week or two."

"The very last time they came was the worst, though." Lizette shuddered, "They didn't take the children away. They just took the place over. I hid in the kitchen...they..." she couldn't continue.

"Is this when they broke his ribs?"

Lizette nodded, "Herald, I'm sorry...I..." she took a deep breath, finally looking at Talia, "I can't...can we finish this tomorrow?"

Talia felt the woman's weariness as well as her own, "Yes, of course."

Lizette did not demur when Talia offered to walk her back to her rooms, "I don't care if everyone thinks _I'm _drunk." she said smiling a little, "After this night, I might need it."

"As long as you show up at breakfast and prove to your colleagues that I haven't kidnapped you," replied Talia, "Or else, Kerowyn will not forgive me."


	42. Chapter 42

It only took a moment to stop at his room to pick up his bedroll. Neave didn't even bother to try to sleep indoors, not after today. He walked out the glazed door and Kyldathar was waiting for him in the garden.

:Are you...all right?: asked Kyldathar softly.

"No." he said just as softly.

Neither of them said anything else as they walked to Kyldathar's stall.

When Neave had settled comfortably next to her, he asked, :Did you know?:, meaning about his Mage Gift and the block to his memory.

:No, Chosen. I wouldn't keep something like that from you.: Worried that he feared her to be deliberately hiding it.

He had been actually. Neave and Kyldathar seldom disagreed. After Kyldathar had nearly died, their bond had become one of the strongest in the Circle. He wasn't sure how he would feel if she had hidden this sort of thing from him.

:I think that neither of us wanted to look too closely at this.: she finished.

He nodded.

Whether it was what Talia had done or if it was simple exhaustion, Neave didn't know, but he was asleep a moment after that. His sleep was blessedly dreamless.

**

Cymry and Gwena passed along to their Chosen Talia's invitation to breakfast with her in her rooms. Skif and Elspeth wondered at her secretiveness, their Companions had only told them tha she wanted to discuss the matter in private.

After the servants had left after bringing up their meal, Skif said, "So? What's the mystery?"

Talia sighed, "I wanted to ask you about Neave," Talia thought she was stretching things a bit by including Skif, but Skif knew about Mage Gifts and he was a Herald and Neave's friend. She didn't think he'd mind her asking him.

Elspeth bit her lip, "He's not taking what I told him yesterday well, is he?"

"You could say that." said Talia dryly, she went on to explain the events of yesterday. She also told them a little of what Lizette had told her regarding how much memory Neave didn't seem to have access to.

They both went very white and Talia could Feel their rage like the heat from her fire.

Skif stood up, cursing and went to look out the window. Talia got the strong image of thrown knives before he shielded. Elspeth sat very still, not letting anything leak. "You've seen this sort of thing, then?" Talia said.

"Yes." growled Skif.

Elspeth nodded. Her eyes were very wide and her mouth compressed to a thin line.

Skif took a great sigh, getting a grip on his anger, "That explains what Nyara said the other night." he said walking back to throw himself on the chair.

"Which was?" asked Talia

Skif shrugged, "She said that he Felt...familiar."

Elspeth nodded again, "Those with Mage Gift can be used to store power for other mages. Like a Herald can feed a Healer power. But it can be done against their will. When it is," she shuddered with revulsion, "It's worse than rape, they say.

Skif nodded, "And if a mage can _break _another Mage Gifted, he has a source of power that he can use without harm to himself...perhaps Ancar's mages were just experimenting at the time."

"Where is he this morning?" asked Elspeth, "He probably shouldn't be alone."

"He's not." replied Talia, "He's with Kyldathar. Slept there all last night, I guess. If he wakes before noon, I'll be surprised. I tranced him and Rolan's been keeping an eye on him."

Skif smiled slightly, "He always sleeps out there when he's upset. That's why he took that gods damned drafty room."

There was a knock at the door, Talia opened it to Lizette and the page who had led her there. The page bowed to the Heralds and went back down the stairs. Talia took Lizette's hand and led her into the room, "I take it your friends are reassured that you won't disappear?" Talia said.

Lizette smiled, "Sabeera showed all of them the Decree."

Elspeth and Skif rose from their chairs, Skif grabbed an extra one for Lizette,

"Thank you. Heralds..?" said Lizette accepting Skif's gesture graciously.

"I'm Elspeth and this is Skif." said Elspeth politely.

"Oh," clearly Lizette knew their names, if not their faces. she turned to Talia, "But, what is it you wanted to see me for?" she seemed a little off balance to be sharing meals with the heroes who had brought the Mage Gift back to Valdemar.

"We're close friends of Neave's." said Elspeth quietly.

Lizette shook her head, plainly befuddled, "I didn't know Neave had gotten so important. When I inquired about him, I was given to understand that he was just an ordinary Herald."

Talia's mouth quirked up at the corner, "There is no such thing, as an ordinary Herald, I think. As it is, Neave is on the short list to be the envoy to Karse--Solaris suggested his name because he apparently impressed a Sun Priest who is also a friend of hers. I doubt he'll accept, given how he feels about crowds and Courts, but just the suggestion is an honor."

Lizette looked thoughtful at that.

"So, you would be Neave's friend, Mara?" asked Elspeth after a moment.

"Yes. I was only called that because people called me "the Valdemaran girl" so often that I took it as a name." she blushed a little, "Bethany was a victim. Mara was a whore. Lizette is a mage." she seemed to feel like she had to explain all the changes.

Elspeth smiled, "The Tayledras change their names to reflect changes in themselves, too."

Lizette smiled at Elspeth, grateful for the understanding, Talia Felt.

"Do you think you could explain to us what happened to Neave?" Talia prompted.

Lizette looked down at her hands in her lap, "You are aware of how blood rites work? Yes?"

They all nodded.

"When the Prince's men would return him...he never told me exactly what happened...but he said when he cut himself, it helped him remember who he was. I didn't understand at the time, but since then I've learned that it was a way of getting control."

"I'm not sure I understand." said Talia.

"It...when someone's hurt like that, sometimes the only way to escape is to go numb. But then the only way to feel real is to feel pain. The White Winds school has a great deal of teaching concerning the healing of those who've been injured by blood mages. I-I made it something of a special study. I didn't want to see anyone suffer like that child did."

"I wonder why you were never Chosen." said Skif, "That's something a Herald would say. And there seems a lot in common with White Winds mages and Heralds."

Lizette smiled bitterly, "Because until I was sixteen years old, I was a spoiled little bitch with very little interest in anything, save my own pleasure. Even after I fled, I had no interest in the troubles other than my own."

"So what changed you?" asked Talia.

"Neave. He shamed me. He..." she blushed, "He loved me, the way children do. Without reservation. I don't think I ever had that in my life before him. That's why what they did..." she swallowed, "Bastards."

"You were going to tell me what you did witness." said Talia gently. Elspeth and Skif sat silently.

She closed her eyes, steeling herself, "They had been using the children to store power. The mage Ancar had with him was trying to raise demons. In order to get the power back out, they used as much fear and pain as they could create. They raped the girl but then..." she took a breath and looked at the three in turn, "You know how a mage can control another's body?"

"Yes." whispered Elspeth, horrified.

Lizette's own voice had sunk to a whisper, "They made him participate in raping the girl."

"Gods." breathed Skif.

Lizette looked at them sharply, "He fought them, Herald." Talia Felt Lizette's need to make sure they understood that very clearly. "He lost, but he fought them. The mage was so angry that the boy had slipped his control in front of the Prince that he took great stripes out of the boy's back with the whip and then with the pokers from the fire. When he was done they kicked him so hard that they broke his ribs in three places. I ran to Melia's. She said that perhaps it would be better if the boy died, but I couldn't bear it."

"I used Melia's Healing spells and Neave's own mage Gift and the gods-only-know what else to patch him together. You know how it is when you don't know what a Gift can do--you try everything and you run into things that work. Melia said that if I made him believe he was less hurt than he was, he had a strong enough Gift to make it so. I told Garek that I'd tell the lawkeepers that _he _did it if he didn't let me take care of Neave."

"There were memories I knew he couldn't bear to live with. I created a door and put them behind it. He helped, he didn't want to remember either. Melia said that if I took him with me, I could get a Mindhealer at the White Winds school to help him sort it out."

"When the girl killed herself, two weeks later, I thought he was going to follow her. But instead, the next day he was talking of dreaming of Companions. And then three Valdemaran Guard officers turned up that night. I knew they had to be Heralds." she stopped to take a shuddering breath.

Skif stood to look out the window again and Elspeth said, "That explains much about Neave."

"I have never been able to understand why it happened that way." said Lizette, "I have wished that the boy could have been Chosen before all that horror."

"Did you ever consider that _you _may have called the Companion?" said Talia slowly.

"I beg your pardon?" said Lizette, startled.

Talia had one of those moments when she knew Rolan was speaking through her, because the words were falling from her lips with no thought from herself. Generally this only happened when she was speaking with Selenay, "The Heralds are bound to the people of Valdemar. Were you hoping a Herald would appear?"

Lizette was nodding, "Yes. I told him every story from Sun and Shadow on, that I could think of. I wished...I prayed that a Herald would show up to make it right with him."

The three Heralds looked at each other, "I'm tempted to ask Firesong for help with this." said Elspeth.

"No." said Talia flatly, "He told me that he didn't want mages mucking about in his head again. I understand now, what he meant."


	43. Chapter 43

"Should we...tell him about this?" Skif asked from his place at the window, "Perhaps, he doesn't need to know."

Talia shook her head. "Somewhere in his head, or perhaps his heart , he does know. That's why the dreams. I think that as long as the Mage Protections held, he had no way to find those memories. No one's been able to even think about mage magic, so only the memories that didn't include it came through. A Mindhealer would have found the block, but, although the idea was repeatedly mentioned, according to his file." Talia indicated the thick stack of paper she had on her side table, "There was always some very good reason why the Heralds needed to handle it themselves."

"I've heard that the Karsites have methods of wiping memories away." persisted Skif, "Maybe..."

"Solaris has declared that knowledge Anathema." said Talia, "Who we are is determined by our choices at different moments in our lives. If we wipe away the memories, we take parts of ourselves away." Talia stared at the coin sized scar on her palm, rubbing it. "And if he doesn't face the memories, he can never really heal."

Lizette nodded, "I never meant for that block to last this long. Just until I could take him somewhere safe enough."

"I'm not mentioning to him that I heard any of this. If he wants to tell me, that's one thing, but..." Skif clearly felt uncomfortable with the whole conversation. He turned around finally, to face them, "I'm not a Mindhealer or a mage, I'm not sure what I can do to help."

"One of the talents of a Mindhealer is the ability to bring the right people together, Skif. I think that he needs us." replied Talia, "But you're right, I'm not sure we should be speaking of this, really. I just feel so much at a loss.

After a moment, Elspeth said, "It might help if he would talk to Nyara."

Skif nodded.

"Nyara?" asked Talia delicately, she had avoided asking directly about Nyara.

"She has some...experience with some of what Neave's going through." Skif returned. Talia nodded as if that made sense to her.

"I wanted to ask you," Talia said addressing Elspeth and Lizette now, "_Is _there any way to get rid of a Mage Gift?"

Lizette glanced at Elspeth before saying, "Not without...damage."

Elspeth nodded, "Although, he doesn't have to use it. Its not as if it'll get out of control or anything. Not if it hasn't before now."

Talia looked relieved at that, "Good. I think that will help. He may change his mind after we deal with all the other things, but I think he'll be reassured to discover, he doesn't have to be a mage."

The four of them were quiet. "This could destroy him, you know." Skif finally voiced what they were all thinking, "Anyone can be broken."

"If that happens, we'll just have to put him back together." Talia replied, "The Healers say that people are stronger in the broken places. I hope it can be so for him."

***

Neave reluctantly dragged himself awake. He was tempted to just turn over and go back to sleep, but Kyldathar nudged him, :Talia's here. Looking for you.:

"In here." called Neave. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Talia came in. Neave stood. "What time is it?" he asked a little confused.

Talia smiled, "Midmorning. Don't worry, you haven't missed anything."

"Good."

Neave noticed that, although Talia was trying to cover it, she was somber and ill at ease, "So have you reckoned out what to do with me?" he said with a bit more exasperation than he meant to.

"We may have." replied Talia quietly, not taking offence at his tone, for which he was grateful, "I spoke with Elspeth about the Mage Gift at least. She said you needn't do anything with it, if you don't want to. It's not as though its a new Gift that's likely to get out of control--you've actually been controlling it just fine. As far as that's concerned there's really no problem."

That was a tremendous relief to Neave. He relaxed.

"The rest of it, though." continued Talia, she took one of his hands, "Lizette told me that there's quite a bit in your head, that you can't remember, because she hid it from you."

He nodded, "I think I knew that." at least it didn't feel like a surprise when she said it, "So what can I do about it?"

"I think we need to get rid of the blocks. After that, I can help you with whatever you find, if you want."

He sighed, nodded, "Nothing's ever easy, is it? So when do you suggest we deal with this?"

"I'm guessing sooner, rather than later." said Talia, "The dreams are your mind's way of trying to bring things to the surface. But we don't need to do anything to today. You're tired and an awful lot happened yesterday."

"I'm meeting with Kyril about my next assignment, tomorrow..." he began.

"At the moment you've got at least a month's leave coming, so there's no urgency to that." Talia knew that Neave was inclined to use work as a way to cope with his troubles, "And, unless another war breaks out, we have enough people to cover about anything. You can't escape this by overworking yourself." she finished.

"You know me too well, my friend." he said.

***

The next day Neave spoke with Kyril who mentioned several prospective although non urgent assignments. One of them being envoy to Karse, surprising Neave, no end. Neave politely pointed out that he had very little experience with diplomacy and though he appreciated the honor, he'd have to decline.

In his own mind, he had visions of creating some undignified diplomatic incident and restarting the war. Talia, who was attending this meeting in her capacity as Queen's Own, must have gotten some of that, because she shared a brief conspiratorial smile with him.

Kyril merely agreed, but said he wanted to make it known to Neave that his work with the refugees had been very impressive and noticed. Neave shook his head wondering that the old Sun Priest had been so impressed with simple hospitality.

"What I'd really prefer you to do," said Kyril, "Is to take over some of Alberich's covert work in Haven, actually."

Neave had been vaguely aware that Alberich had something he did down in the City sometimes. He also knew that Skif sometimes accompanied him.

"The fact is," said Talia, "Alberich's getting too old, and Skif's getting another assignment, soon. Officially, you'd be down as a courier, and you'd do some of that--it gives a good explanation for why you'd be here irregularly."

That was something that he felt competent to do and said so.

That sorted, Kyril said it would take a month or two to set up and he should consider himself officially on leave for at least eight weeks. Neave raised his eyebrows at Talia, who shrugged.

For the next week, Neave spent time reconnecting with friends in Haven. And most of all, becoming reacquainted with Lizette. They met every evening after she finished teaching class.

"I'd figured out you were highborn." he said one evening, as they sat in the rooms she shared with Sabeera. Many of Kerowyn's mages had returned to where they had come from, but some had stayed to teach and were given rooms in the Palace, "Skif used to ask me why my accent was better than his when I got here."

Lizette smiled, "I'm not sure why I taught you Valdemaran. It just seemed natural."

"I thought it was because you were lonely." said Neave softly.

"You were probably right." she said.

After a moment she changed the subject. "Herald Talia tells me that the Divorce Decree has been given to a Herald Courier to take to Lord Tavist's circuit Herald. I expect he'll ride to Haven himself when he gets it. Do you think he'll cause trouble over paying for my lands?" Lizette had opted to receive her dowry back in gold.

"Oh, he'll try." said Neave, "But, you could bring criminal charges, if you wanted. The fines for grievous bodily harm are steeper than your dowry. I'm sure that he'll back down when reminded of that." He'd asked her if she had wanted to press criminal charges. Even with a crime as old as this, because the damage was permanent, she could still do so. Talia and Collegum Healers could verify the truth of her barreness and the cause.

She'd refused, saying that the stress of a trial would be too much for her. She still feared her ex husband, Neave knew. Even after eighteen years. Even though she was now a mage. Although she put on a strong front, she was very fragile in places. Neave remembered her being that way always. He was glad she had Sabeera, who seemed to compliment her so well. He even wondered if it were a life bond, at times. Perhaps he'd ask Talia.

It was odd to think about, but the child she'd lost would almost be of age now.

Sometimes Sabeera would spend the evening with them, other times, like tonight, she'd go out to meet other friends and leave them alone. Neave had brought a few bottles of wine down with him tonight, because he didn't think he could have this conversation entirely sober. He reached out to Kyldathar for a moment. He couldn't begin this conversation without her help, either.

"Lizette?" He said after he'd filled his wine glass for the third time. "Can we talk about...what I'm not remembering?"

She sighed, her eyes were haunted, "I suppose." she said resigned.

"It's bad, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

"Neave, I'm sorry."

"That's the second time you've apologized to me." he said, "What are you apologizing for?"

Her eyes grew bright, "I couldn't protect you. I wanted to run away with you, but..."

He shook his head, "My own Companion had to go find three Heralds to come get me. It's not as though you have nearly as much experience stealing children.

She stared at him a moment before she realized he was joking. She smiled tightly, and suddenly Neave recognized as the one she used to give him when she knew things were going to be bad, but she'd be there to help him put the pieces of himself back together.

"It's really bad." he said it as a statement.

"Yes." she whispered, "I'm not sure we should talk about this without Talia..."

That was disturbing. What could be so awful that Lizette was afraid to even speak of it? "I can have Kyldathar find her, if we need her." assured Neave, "I'm not fourteen anymore--hell its been that many years. I lived through it. Remembering it won't kill me."

"Can you tell me what you remember?" Lizette asked.

Neave told her what he remembered from his dreams and what he remembered from Kyril triggering the memory. More bits and pieces that had occurred to him over the years.

"But you only remember the one time?"

He nodded.

"It was many more times than that, Neave. They'd bring you back and you'd be almost in shock." She took his left hand and pushed his shirt up to his elbow, where the flesh was marked with many old scars, "That's when you started doing this." she indicated the old cuts, "And you'd tell me you did it because you wanted it to go away."

"What to go away?" he whispered.

She dropped his hand and shrugged, "You never told me that. Old Melia told me how to create a door in your head. You were pretty anxious to do it. I showed you how to put all those things behind it. But, what I saw that last time..."

"What?" he asked, that horrible pressure was starting in his head again.

"Do you remember what they did to the girl?"

"Some." he said, starting to feel the familiar nausea and the pain in his stomach it always caused him.

"Do you remember what they made _you _do?"

"I...." that was all he was able to say before his stomach rebelled entirely. The next thing he knew, he was on his hands and knees emptying his stomach onto Lizette's floor. He was helpless with retching even when there was nothing left to come up, and she knelt beside him.

Kyldathar must have called Talia, because it wasn't too long after that he felt her hands on his forehead. "All right," she was saying softly, "It's all right,"

The nausea subsided but not the self loathing that caused it. Now, he crouched in shame, kneeling where he'd fallen. Distantly, he felt Talia pulling the various knives he wore from their sheathes. Handing them to Lizette. He cursed her in his head, although he didn't know whether it was his feelings she was reading or if Kyldathar had warned her through Rolan of his first thought of slitting his wrists on the spot.


	44. Chapter 44

Companions don't Choose where there is evil.

Everyone knew that. No matter what sort of life a Chosen had led before, everyone knew that there was nothing of evil in them. Everyone also "knew", until recently, that mages had ceased to be except in the very old tales.

So, what if the evil were hidden deep in the mind, behind a mage door where even a Companion couldn't look?

Neave slammed his shields shut between himself and Kyldathar. Between himself and the rest of the world. When Talia had taken his knives, it felt as though she'd taken his only escape. They put him on Lizette's couch where he lay facing away from the room. He heard hushed voices speaking, but took no notice..

Kira had been his friend. Oh, not a close friend, not what he'd call a friend now. But in the hard way of the poor, she had been kind enough to him. Just slightly better off than he in the way the town measured respectability, she was of the type who generally made Neave's life hard. She called off her fellows sometimes when they would have made life difficult for him.

Her father was a drunkard and more than once Kira had dragged the man back home from Garek's. More than once Neave had seen her with a black eye or a cut lip after that. They had gravitated towards each other, after a while. Neave had thought her very pretty and sometimes spoke to her when they met at the market. From time to time, they talked together of things no one else would understand (perhaps the mage Gift drew them together).

The Prince and his mages had seen that mage Gift.

They took the two away at night. They would generally just pay off Gareck. Neave didn't know how they came for Kira...probably the same way. The mages pulled power from dying creatures--birds or dogs or horses. No people, because at the time, the Prince was being circumspect. They poured the bloody, tainted power into the children. When they were too loud in their protests, sometimes the mages poured drugs down their throats too. Sometimes Neave and Kira would sleep from the drugs or simple exhaustion, arms around each other their only comfort. The Prince's men would dump them off in town at sunrise to let the power grow.

They would go their separate ways. Not wishing to remind one another of what they had just gone through, they never spoke in daylight.

Staying awake all night didn't prevent the Prince's men from coming, but at least Neave wasn't caught unawares.

The lawkeepers avoided crossing paths with the children--if they didn't see them, there was no crime.

Once, Neave protested to the men that they really didn't need her. That had been a bad idea, the mages had seen how much watching her be hurt, hurt Neave. She said that it didn't make them hurt her any more than before, but now they made him watch.

Whenever they let him go, he found that he could release the power they put in him by cutting himself. It leaked out with the blood. When it became unbearable he let the power out that way.

He begged Mara to help him. She showed him how to build a door and lock it with his mage Gift. Every awful thing went in there.

The night they'd come to Garek's rather than taking them away, the Prince had been bored. Looking to be entertained as well as experiment. Kira and Neave clung to one another in fear and Ancar had watched them with a slow, evil smile.

Kira had screamed more loudly when it was Neave than when it was any of the others.

His body was controlled by the mages, but he had dreamed of bedding Kira. His body appalled him by finding pleasure in the act.

In revulsion and anger, he defied the mage. He had flung himself out of the mages control, but only succeded in throwing himself to the ground beside the girl, where he could hear her whimpering.

They hung him from the wall and tore the skin from his back. When they let him down, they caved in his ribcage with a kick.

Mara saved his life, though he didn't understand why.

He was the same as the men who hired her. The same as the men who rented him from Garek.

Mara made him put all that behind the door as well. She told him that he wasn't evil and put his evil away behind a mage lock.

Kira was broken and empty.

He'd made her that way. He'd wanted her. He'd slept in her arms for comfort.

Kyldathar tried to get through Neave's shields, but Neave guessed it would only be to repudiate him. He pulled his mental barriers tighter.

Another presence tried to get through. Neave sank further into himself. He spun his shields tight and hard

As he had lain by the kitchen fire, Kira had come past him, "Goodbye, Neave." she'd whispered.

He had done nothing.

For a week she hadn't eaten or spoken. Her last words were to tell him goodbye.

Kyldathar had been fooled. Neave had fooled her and had fooled himself.

Neave wished passionately for his knife. He wished he'd followed Kyldathar into death in that long ago battle. He wouldn't have been welcomed in the Havens but Kyldathar wouldn't have had to know why.

It occurred to him that Kyldathar would not live long after his death. On the other hand, he knew from legend and Chronicle that a Companion who repudiated a Herald didn't generally live long, either.

Why had she Chosen _him_? Perhaps it had been Mara, Perhaps it was some cosmic joke. He had always known in some corner of himself that it was a mistake.

Kira had been sweet and beautiful. Neave had destroyed her. She could have borne the other men--it was being betrayed by a friend that had destroyed her. Her shade would likely pursue vengeance against his

Kyldathar was sweet and beautiful and purer than anything in the world. Neave would destroy her too. He didn't know how to prevent it, and he couldn't think of a hell cold enough to contain his crimes.


	45. Chapter 45

"We need to watch him." said Talia to Lizette, "I mean, every moment, watch him. He's suicidal." She nodded to the knives Lizette held. "Those should be locked up.."

They had managed to get Neave onto Lizette's couch. When he ceased vomiting, he seemed to withdraw right inside himself. Apparently not taking any notice of anything Talia or Lizette did or said.

Lizette flinched, her eyes streaming, but she nodded. "Leave him here," she whispered, "Sabeera and I..."

Talia nodded, "I think its a good notion to leave him here, but he needs more watchers than just two. I'll stay tonight."

Someone knocked at the door, "Oh thank the Lady," breathed Talia, glad that someone else had come.

It was Skif and Nyara, "Talia, Cymry told us you wanted us here?"

"Skif--it's Neave--he..." Not for the first time, she wished she could Mindspeak. She wanted to talk with them all privately, but all she could do now was beckon them into a corner and whisper. "He needs watching. He's not really sane at the moment. I got that much, before he threw me out. I'm afraid to leave him, but I need to have a word with Elspeth. I really want no less than two of us watching him and one needs to be a Herald."

"Are you afraid he'll do someone injury?" whispered Nyara, surprised.

Talia shook her head, "Right now, he's only dangerous to himself. The problem is his Gift. If he gets coherent enough to use it, he'll be able to look you straight in the eye and tell you he's fine and he's just going to take walk. The way his Gift works, you'll believe him."

Skif looked grim and nodded understanding, "Cymry will help me shield him out. And Nyara has help too. So, what should we do if he tries to leave?"

"Club him, if you have to." said Talia harshly, "But at least if he tries to physically leave I might be able to get to him. As it is..." she gestured helplessly at Neave, apparently sleeping or unconcious on Lizette's couch, "He's completely locked both his Companion and me out. I've never seen him shield like that."

Lizette said, "I think the spell we created broke all at once. All that energy he'd been diverting to it for years..."

"Lizette, you have to come with me." Talia said after a second's thought, "You have to explain what you and he did."

As she turned Skif caught her in a quick hug before she left. He was very aware of how upset she was, "I'll be back soon," she said into his ear, "Just don't let him leave until then."

He nodded.

They nearly ran into Elspeth and Darkwind outside Lizette's door, "Talia! Gwena told me..!" Elspeth panted, apparently they both had come at a dead run.

Talia looked up and down the corridor which was fortunately, empty. The mages had been put in the visitor's end of the Palace. There was a suite near Lizette's that was unoccupied, so Talia dragged the three of them in there.

"Lizette, what happened?" asked Talia,

Lizette wiped her eyes, took a deep steadying breath, "He wanted to know what he couldn't remember. The block and the compulsion came apart all at once."

"Compulsion?" asked Darkwind sharply, "What compulsion?"

Elspeth glanced at Darkwind, probably filling him in on the conversations she'd had with Talia about Neave. Talia wasn't at all happy to have to go outside the Circle like this, and directly against Neave's wishes, but as far as she was concerned this was as vital an emergency as if Neave was already bleeding on the floor.

Lizette looked at Darkwind, as though she had just registered his presence "And you are...?" she said coldly, to the exotic mage.

"A friend. And help." Elspeth said, forestalling whatever Darkwind was about to say, "And he knows something about compulsions."

"So explain this compulsion." said Talia calmly, trying to get everyone to calm down. They would do Neave no good if they couldn't think this through.

"You understood what I told you the other day?" asked Lizette, almost impatiently "We put what was happening behind a door with a mage lock."

"But...Neave's told me bits and pieces of what happened...or what he recalled of it. It's not squaring up with what I picked up from him just now." Talia said slowly, "He's centered on the girl now. Except for talking about her in relation to Kyldathar coming for him, he's never spoken of her before."

"He couldn't cope with what was happening. An unGifted person can repress a memory, if they want to hard enough." Lizette rubbed her arms, "Melia showed me the door spell, it's not much used anymore, but they used to use it on mages who were involved with secret research. Or apprentices who haven't reached a level to use theoretical knowledge they have gained.

"Now, its sometimes used on people like Neave, who are traumatized and need some time. It's a form of compulsion that causes one to forget a particular memory or set of memories. If its a set of memories, you can't leave any loose ends. He had to forget great chunks of time. He didn't notice, because the memories got filled with something common. I think the only reason he didn't entirely forget what happened that last time were the injuries he came away with. Before that, it was always much more commonplace injuries...bruises, cuts and the like.

"But its a door, you see? Not a wall or an erasure. The key is always available should the person need it."

"So," asked Darkwind, "I take it he's found the key?"

Lizette nodded.

"What was his relationship with the girl?" asked Talia, trying to understand what was causing Neave's complete withdrawl. She'd hardly ever Felt someone who wanted to die so badly.

Lizette shrugged, "I think he was a little sweet on her. She was only a little older than he. She spoke to him, sometimes, which in a place like that, can mean a lot to a lonely lad. After Ancar started in on them, he became odd about her, protective. I never knew if it was because of her, personally, or..."

"Or if it was just that Neave couldn't bear to see someone else hurt." finished Talia. She rubbed her forehead. "So that memory Kyril triggered...it was what we needed and _only _what we needed at the time because of the Mage Protections. He didn't even know that door was there."

"Talia," Elspeth was looking thunderstruck, "Neave has always gone to his Companion first, when he was troubled, hasn't he?"

"Yes," said Talia, not seeing the relevance.

"The Mage Barrier was keyed to the Heralds and the Companions. I know he went to Kyldathar whenever he had one of those dreams. She would have reinforced the block. She wouldn't even have had to know about it, but it worked _through _her."

"And its not as though Neave was terribly anxious to examine those memories." sighed Talia.

Lizette was nodding again. "As I said, compulsions work much better when they're agreed to. And after the last time," her face went red, "I think I botched it. I showed him how to tie his mage Gift into the door to keep it closed. When the Companion came for him, it never occurred to me to reverse it. There wasn't time and I just assumed the Heralds..." she trailed off.

"It seems like all that energy backlashed on him, when the spell broke." said Talia

Lizette nodded, "I'm sure it did. I'm guessing since the Mage Barrier went down that he's been under a strain, so he diverted more energy into keeping those memories locked away. When he finally let go, it's like a wound spring or a catapult. All that pent up energy rebounded on him."

"So as well as mental trauma, we're looking at backlash shock?" asked Darkwind.

"It looks like." said Talia, she hesitated a moment, "Is this backlash likely to have damaged his mind?"

Lizette nodded, biting her lip.

"Do any of you think you could help me get past his shields?" asked Talia.

The mages looked dubious, "If Kyldathar can't get in..." said Elspeth slowly, "I'm not sure what we can do. And we might hurt him, further."

"Glorious." said Talia, "All right, we'll just have to keep a very close watch on him. Either he'll come to, and I'll try to talk to him, or he'll get too tired to keep his shields that tight and I can get in that way." she didn't add, or he'll just will himself to die.


	46. Chapter 46

It was harder to die than Neave thought.

He had no weapon. Talia had seen to that--even making sure to pull off his boots, knowing that many Heralds carried daggers there. Neave lay on Lizette's couch, curled in on himself, not responding to anything except when Talia tried to get in. Whenever that happened he pulled his shields tighter.

Every time he sent out a tendril of thought, there were people in the room. He wasn't interested in who. His head hurt and when he felt anything physically, he felt pain. Better to sleep. What he desperately wanted to do was find his knives.

Every so often he thought he heard Kyldathar calling him, but he assumed he was mistaken.

She wouldn't be calling him.

Clearly the power stored in him had tainted him. That's why he had begged for Mara to help him hide the memories. He'd never be rid of the evil. It could be hidden, but never removed.

He found himself glad that Ylsa wasn't alive and didn't need to know of this.

For a very long time he lay turned away from the room trying to decide how best to kill himself

At some point he opened his eyes to slits, trying to behave as if he were merely stirring in his sleep. He turned over so he could see the room. Someone sat near a candle, in the chair. Dozing? Perhaps.

Another someone sat with their back to the door. It was Skif. He was awake, Neave could see him toying with something in his hand. The door knocked and Skif stood. Two others came in the room. Perhaps Talia and...Dirk? Neave hadn't realized Dirk was back from up north.

The person in the chair stood. It was Nyara. Dirk said something softly to both of them that Neave didn't catch and then Skif and Nyara left

They took the positions that Skif and Nyara had occupied.

"I wish Elcarth were still with us." sighed Talia, "He might have had some idea what to say."

Can he hear us?" asked Dirk. He sat with his back against the door with something in his lap. It was not going to be easy for Neave to get out that way

He felt Talia brush up against his shields with her Gift, "He's not asleep, but I can't tell what he's doing other than that." she said. "So I think its a fair assumption that he can."

He nearly flinched when Talia brushed his hair with her hand. He felt that he'd contaminate her with the contact. The long discipline of a spy held him still. He'd once hidden in a barn where he'd gotten his hand stepped on by a horse--he'd held his breath till the beast had moved and never been discovered.

It would have been better had he been discovered then. He'd be long dead now.

He closed his eyes again.

"Neave?" said Dirk softly, "Ahrodie says that Kyldathar is frantic. You shouldn't wall her off like this. Please? She'll help you, whatever it is. And we'll help you."

Neave wished passionately that his Gift was, like Dirk's, Fetching. He could have Fetched himself a knife from the kitchens. If he'd been a Firestarter he would have immolated himself by now.

He was a...mage?

He weighed that thought. Perhaps this mage Gift was his way out.

Dirk was talking, still, "I remember what that place was like. And we know what Ancar was like. I remember how afraid everyone was there. But its over. We can help you cope with it."

That was a bitter thought. Dirk didn't understand. Dirk couldn't understand that one can't cope with evil, one should just kill it.

Maybe Kyldathar hadn't seen what was in his mind yet? That both distressed him and relieved him. He felt terrible that Kyldathar wouldn't know why he did this, but selfishly, that was better than repudiation. At least he'd be remembered merely as one of the Heralds who had gone mad.

After a moment, harp song filled the air. Either Dirk or Talia was playing a soft lullaby. Neave listened till he dozed.

Sometime later he woke. Talia and Dirk were quiet. Maybe they had dozed off? That was a hopeful thought for a moment, then he heard a distinct sigh from the end of the couch.

"I know you can hear me, lad" said an unfamiliar man's voice, "Can you sit up and talk to me for a few minutes?"

For a moment Neave thought of just lying there, but something about the man made him, most unwillingly, open his eyes and sit up.

He was a tall man with blue eyes and white hair, dressed in Whites. Neave couldn't place him. He looked at Neave. "Why are you distressing Kyldathar so?"

"I..." Neave whispered, stopped. He couldn't explain. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Can you show me?" said the tall Herald.

Neave felt oddly compelled to do so. The man had asked for it after all, he'd have a headache later, but it didn't matter. As violently as he'd vomited earlier, Neave threw all that he'd been feeling at the stranger.

Maybe if he was very lucky the man would cut Neave's throat for him.

The man didn't move, except for his eyebrows drew together in a frown. Neave leaned back, starting to feel the headache, surprised that it should be starting already.

"Herald..." the man began.

"Don't call me that" whispered Neave, "I'm not."

"Not?" asked the Herald gently, "Not a Herald? Then what are you?"

Evil. Tainted. Sick.

Neave said nothing, though.

"Not evil, Herald. Not tainted. Hurt, yes. Lost, maybe. Sick? That's what we have Healers for. I can tell you for a fact, evil never feels like this. Evil sleeps easily at night and always has a reason for why it must do what it does. The mages who so wounded you had reasons for what they did that made sense by their lights."

"But Kira..." Neave whispered.

"Was a victim as well and sadly, died of her wounds." the tall Herald said gently, "You are not responsible for her death."

"But I..." Neave couldn't continue for the shame of his crime.

"You did what you were forced to do."

"But I enjoyed it." Neave gasped out, praying to any god he could think of that the Herald would realize that he should be killed.

"You mean your body responded as bodies respond?" asked the Herald, mildly, "And you don't think the mage might not have been aware how much this distressed you?"

That had never actually occurred to Neave.

"But..." he said again.

The Herald fixed him with an acute look, "Perhaps if you asked your Companion, she might be able to help you sort it out. "

Neave still felt he couldn't bear to let Kyldathar into his mind. To contaminate her with this.

The Herald sighed again, "Some years ago, there was a mage who wanted to keep their loved one safe. This mage created a ritual somewhere between a prayer and a spell."

"I know my history," Neave rasped, irritated and not understanding this change of subject.

The Herald didn't take any offence, rather he smiled a little, "You know _Valdemar's _history. Not your own. This mage, she created a ritual somewhere between a prayer and a spell. She called for a Herald to set things right for you. A Companion mare flew clear across the border to find you. If you had not been of the right material to be a Herald yourself, a Herald would have found some circumstances drive him or her over the border. But a Companion came for you. Companions are never wrong in whom they Choose."

"But the door...the Mage Protections..."

"Evil cannot be hidden that way." the Herald said positively. He seemed so sure, "Please, Neave, Kyldathar is willing to help you with anything you find. Won't you let her in?"

Neave nodded, still not convinced, but willing to try.

The Herald patted him gently on the shoulder, "Good lad," he smiled.

After a moment, Neave realized he was lying down on the couch with his eyes closed. Talia and Dirk were sitting where they had been, talking very quietly. Was the whole conversation a dream? But in the moment between waking and sleeping, he took the tall Herald's advice.

:Kyldathar?: he called with his mind.

:Chosen?:

:Am I still? Am I still your Chosen?: asked Neave, shakily. He opened his mind to Kyldathar and waited for her cast him out.

Kyldathar's own voice was shaking, :You are my Chosen. We will face this together. Only, please, please, never do that again.:

"Neave?" said Talia, sensing the difference in his shields, before she saw him shaking. She put her arms around his trembling shoulders. He flinched, but she didn't let go. "Welcome back, little brother." she whispered


	47. Chapter 47

"I feel terrible." Neave told Talia. He meant physically. He'd think about everything else later.

She still sat beside him, rubbing his shaking shoulders. It was dark, the candle on the table was burned halfway down. He was cold. Kyldathar settled back into his thoughts very gingerly, as though she were afraid she'd hurt him somehow.

:I _am _afraid of hurting you.: she replied, catching the thought. :The channels that hold your Gifts are very raw at the moment. You had tied up a great deal of energy in the last few weeks. I'm not sure why I didn't see it...:

He felt terrible physically, but he also felt worse for what he'd put them all through. "Sorry." he said. He would have liked to reach out to Talia with his mind to let her know what he meant, but to his dismay, he had no strength for it.

"Don't try that, love." Talia said softly, sensing what he was trying to do. She pulled the blanket that covered him more securely. Produced another one from the end of the couch, unfolding it to add to the first. "You'll give yourself a headache. Or, I should say, a bigger headache. You used yourself up on that shield."

"How long have I..?" he asked hesitantly. The way he felt, it could have been a week. He remembered waking and sleeping, but there was no sense of time passing.

"Been out?" supplied Talia,

He nodded, steeling himself against the answer..

"A few candlemarks. It's almost dawn."

That surprised him. He thought he must have been in that horrible isolation for much longer.

He felt the beginnings of a deep shame. This was _not _how he was accustomed to handling things. What he could have done to Kyldathar...what he _must _have done...

:Don't worry about it, Chosen.: Kyldathar told him gently, :You weren't thinking right."

Talia must have picked up on it too, she leaned forward to catch his eyes, "Listen, Neave. That spell was supposed to decay slowly--not dump all those things on you at once. And I had a long talk with Elspeth, Lizette and Darkwind. Lizette tells me that, under normal circumstances, that door spell should have decayed gradually. You've been feeding it all these years with your own Gift. When that spell broke, all the energy it held went through you, like a bolt of lightning. It left you out of your mind for a while. Like a blow to the head might."

He took that in, "I thought Kyldathar would leave me...I..." his shivering got worse, "I thought she'd repudiate me. If she did that she'd die...and I'd be better dead."

:I won't, I swear.: whispered Kyldathar in his mind.

Talia was quiet for a minute, "I'm just glad you were able to come out of it yourself. Darkwind and Lizette both said this kind of backlash is pretty dangerous. We were just considering what to do if you didn't come out of it by morning."

"I'm not sure I did come out of it by myself. " he said slowly.

"Tell me." she said.

"I had the damnedest dream," He told her about the dream of the strange Herald, "It felt so real." he finished.

She smiled, "I think the part of your mind that was coming out of its shock created him. All those old memories trapped you in those feelings. You needed Kyldathar and you needed a way to let her in. Our minds are good at supplying us what we need. So the sensible part of yourself spoke to the frightened part of yourself."

That made sense. If he had been trying to talk himself calm, an old Herald would be something he would imagine. Neave began to relax, :Are you sure, you're all right?: he asked Kyldathar.

:Yes, Chosen. I'm fine, now.: she said.

The door opened. It was Dirk with a tray. Neave hadn't even realized that Dirk had gone. He smiled when he saw that Neave was awake still, "I went and found some soup. I imagine you're starving." He said, "I also brought some tea."

Neave _was _starving. He was also thirsty and felt as though he'd been beaten with cudgels.

Talia and Dirk helped him sit up. He was surprised by how shaky his hands were, it was as though days, not candlemarks, had passed without him eating.

"You've lost about a stonesweight tonight." remarked Dirk, surprised.

Talia nodded, "Elspeth said to expect that. With all the energy that rebounded on him, his body had to cushion itself. Then he's spent all night shielding himself in, he's used up all his reserves" she told Dirk.

She looked at Neave, "Darkwind said that when you woke up," Neave thought it was kind of her to say "when" not "if", "we were to treat you as though you're recovering from a fever for a few days. Now, we can either take you over to Healers or Lizette said you can stay here. The Healers can't really do anything for you, but I don't want you on your own for a bit."

"Talia," Neave felt his cheeks get hot, "I won't...I mean I'm not about to..."

She smiled and patted his hand, "You're as limp as a day old kitten. You can't get to the privy on your own, at the moment. Let alone anything else. That's why you shouldn't be alone. We can deal with all the other things soon enough."

"I'm sorry, I..." he started to apologize again.

It was Dirk who cut him off, this time, "There's no need to apologize for having bad fever dreams, little brother. You're not the first person who had to be stopped from doing something crazy when they were off their heads."

Their matter-of-factness about the whole affair reassured him. Talia would know if he had done serious hurt to either himself or Kyldathar, "If Lizette and Sabeera don't mind, I'd prefer to stay here." he said, softly.

"Good." said Talia, "If it's all right with you, Lizette can help us with the rest of it too."


	48. Chapter 48

Skif and Elspeth turned up the next morning, both pleased that Neave was awake and talking.

"How're you feeling?" asked Elspeth,

"Rotten." he said, "Listen, I'm sorry about..." he kept wanting to apologize to everyone involved.

Skif was shaking his head, "Enough of that. It wasn't your fault--magic can do strange things to the mind."

Elspeth nodded, "I think, if the Mage Barrier hadn't fallen, that door would have stayed closed always, because it was being fed through the Herald's Web. When it fell, the spell decayed and then broke much more quickly than it was supposed to. I'm just glad it didn't do any permanent damage." she stopped to take a breath, "We've seen a lot of what magic can do to people."

"Neave," said Skif awkwardly, "If you want to talk about...well, anything. Nyara and I...we...know some of what you're going through."

Neave nodded with a little smile. That certainly squared with some of the impressions he'd gotten from Nyara.

"We also have another friend who might be able to help..." said Elspeth hesitantly, "She's sort of a Healer."

"A mage?" asked Neave.

Elspeth nodded.

"I don't mind if you want to talk to them about it." said Neave slowly, "But...I really can't bear the thought of a stranger..." he shivered again.

Skif nodded as though this were what he expected Neave to say.

"We have to go, or I think Lizette and Talia will skin us for tiring you out." Elspeth said after a second, she stood and gave him a quick hug. Skif a hand clasp, and they left.

It was two days before Neave felt anything close to normal, physically. He did indeed feel like he was getting over a fever. The truth was, he hadn't felt this weak since the time Kyldathar had been wounded. For the first day, he just lay alternately dozing and staring at the ceiling. When his dreams got ugly, Kyldathar woke him as she always had.

Talia wanted him to regain some strength before they really tried to deal with the memories, she was cautious about risking sending him into shock again. She consulted with Darkwind and the other mages who had come with Darkwind, to try to understand what the door spell had done to damage his mind and what to do about it.

Talia had been very apologetic about talking to Darkwind against Neave's original wishes, but under the circumstances he couldn't really blame her. He shuddered to think of how close he came. If she hadn't have realized what he was about when she did, he might have cut his throat or thrown himself from a window. Whenever his thoughts inclined that way, Kyldathar answered him with a mental caress.

It was interesting staying with Lizette and Sabeera. Lizette seemed to enjoy looking after him. He guessed that he wasn't the only one who found looking after everyone else soothing.

In three days, Talia asked him if he felt ready to let her help him.

"I'll never be _ready_." he replied, "But, let's just go ahead, anyway."

She smiled a little at that. They sat in his room, Talia felt it would make him feel safer, and Kyldathar was right outside in the garden, should she be needed.

He sat cross legged on his bed and Talia pulled up a chair so that they faced each other. Neave trembled a little. Given his experiences with having these memories meddled with, he felt some apprehension was warranted.

"All right, Neave," Talia said in her soft voice, "I just need you to drop your sheilds."

"All of them?" he asked, nervously.

"That's up to you."

He nodded, having a sudden sharp recollection of helping her when she'd been so sick and hurt, and the trust she'd had in him. He took a deep breath and dropped his shields to let her in.

She reached out with her mental hand to take his.

It was a very difficult afternoon.

To remember what had been done to him bad enough. To remember what he had witnessed was worse. To remember what he had done, made him want to die all over again.

"Look at him," one of them had said, "I think he's enjoying this too much."

Powerless to control his own body, he retreated deeply into his mind.

This time he wasn't alone.

Talia and Kyldathar's bright presences stood by him, helped remind him of who he was and who he had decided to be. They reminded him that it was no sin to survive.

After a very long time, he opened his eyes to the world of the now and wept brokenly into Talia's shoulder. A long time after that, Talia put him into a tranced sleep so that his mind would continue to heal.

***

"How is he?" asked Dirk when he went looking for Talia in their rooms. She hadn't turned up at dinner, rather asked for someone to bring a tray up to her room, something she did only when she was exhausted.

She lay in their bed and Dirk sat beside her stroking her hair, "He'll be all right, soon." she said, "I can't believe what he's been walking around with, all this time." she shuddered.

Dirk lay down beside her to hold her. She turned over to return the embrace, "We owe him a lot." she said.

***

Over the next few days, Talia and Neave worked through the worst of his memories. It was awful, but when they finished each time, it seemed worth the trouble. His dreams were still troubled, but they didn't have the weight they used to have.

After some thought, Neave also decided to take Skif and Nyara up on their offer. It was helpful to talk to Nyara and feel less alone.

Talia, Dirk, Elspeth and Skif told anyone who asked them that Neave was recovering from a fever he picked up in the south. Neave figured that that was close enough to the truth. He found this out when he finally felt able to face people again, and staggered down to the common room. He was grateful for their discretion.

"Neave?" someone said, sitting down next to him, the second day he had come down for dinner.

He looked up to see Destria, "Oh you're back," he smiled at her.

"I heard you were sick." she said, concerned, "I've actually been back for a bit, but...well, they said you were too sick to visit."

"Yeah, it was pretty bad." he admitted.

"I can see that. Not like you ever have any weight to lose, but you're just skin and bone." She said, brushing his cheek with the back of her hand.

He smiled again and shrugged.

She shifted a little, "You look like you're about to fall over," she said, "If you're done, I can see you back to your room."

"I'd like that." he said,

She walked with him back to his room, not saying much. As if she had something to say but couldn't find the words.

When they got back to his room, Neave invited her in, as it seemed she still hadn't found her tongue.

"Oh, not if you're tired..." she began.

"I'm tired, but I'm also tired of my own company." he said, realizing it was true.

"I heard...I heard you've been spending time with one of the mages." said Destria, too-casually.

"Yes, Lizette." he said, "I stayed with her for the first couple days I was sick."

Destria's face fell a little, before she covered it, and the copper dropped for Neave. He hurried on, "Do you remember me telling you once, that there was a woman who sort of adopted me?"

"Yes." Destria said, not sure what he was talking about.

"That's Lizette. She'd fled a bad marriage and turns out she had a mage Gift. Went to one of the White Winds schools. When she found out that she could come back, she did." Neave smiled and shrugged, "She's not quite old enough to be my mother, but I guess she's like that, to me. She and her partner were good enough to look after me when I came down with whatever it was."

"Her partner?" asked Destria brightening.

"Yes, Sabeera. I suspect they're life bonded. That or they're just two mooncalves, still."

"Oh, that's nice." said Destria, smiling broadly.

A moment passed, "Neave...I wanted to ask you...I'm not sure if you maybe wanted to see me once in a while." Destria said a little wistfully, "I like you a lot..." she turned rather red.

Neave thought suddenly that he hadn't heard of Destria seeing anyone since Vostel died in the war. He also wondered if she felt awkward about approaching him because she'd been with Christa when Christa had died.

"Destria?" he interrupted her, "I'm not up to much other than sleeping, right now, but to be truthful I'd like some company tonight. Would you stay?" he leaned down and pulled off his boots and then sat back on the bed. He looked at her, "Please?"

She smiled back at him, sat beside him and took off her own boots, "I thought you'd kick me black and blue?" she teased.

"If I do, I'll go sleep on the floor," he promised.

He _was _tired, he just pulled off his shirt and breeches and crawled under the blankets. By the time she'd gotten into bed, he was almost dozing already. She crawled in beside him and put her arm around his waist. "Maybe tomorrow night, I'll have a little more energy." he said.

"I don't mind," said Destria softly, "I just like having someone to sleep with."

Neave's last vaguely surprised thought before he fell asleep was that, for the first time in fourteen years, he did too.

**A/N That's it! Done! I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thanks for all the feedback. Let me know what you think of the whole thing.**

**A word though--a lot of what Neave's gone through (leaving out the fantasy elements) is taken directly from the stories of people I've known who are sexual abuse survivors. So, I'm just trying to say that it can eventually be okay. Though we don't have Mindhealers or Companions, that's what we have friends (and therapists and Prozac and angsty stories to read) for.**


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